


Flying

by NuMo



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Found Family, Missed Connection, My first prompt fic, alternating pov, trans kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuMo/pseuds/NuMo
Summary: I got a prompt fromSralinchenwhich I'll paraphrase for shortness:Myka wants to surprise Claudia and flies to where she lives. Claudia wants to surprise Myka too, and thenthishappens. Enter Helena to save the day.And I might have shortened the prompt, but the fic still turned out to be 20K words *embarrassed grin*
Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Comments: 31
Kudos: 42





	1. At The Gate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sralinchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sralinchen/gifts).



_Hey, shouldn’t you be home by now?_

Myka stared at Claudia’s text. A suspicion dawned in her and she groaned, typing out her reply with gritted teeth and hitting ‘send’ perhaps a bit harder than strictly necessary – this wasn’t her phone’s fault, after all.

_Tell me you’re not standing in front of my apartment door._

_Um  
No  
I’m in Pete and Amanda’s apartment, waiting for delivery pizza  
Wait  
Tell me we’re not *both* that ridiculous  
Please  
PLEASE  
Oh god_

Myka took a very deliberate breath that was not a groan and not a sigh and most of all not a yell of frustration.

_Claudia.  
Claud.  
Claudia SERENDIPITY Donovan.  
It is your 21st birthday AND PRIDE WEEK. Why would you be in fucking DENVER and not in New York?!  
_  


_BECAUSE you just got your PhD, dude  
I wanted to CELEBRATE with you  
All caps and full name maaaaan I’m in trouble  
Don’t throw my stripper name around like that ok  
Pete says he would’ve done the same_

_Tell Pete Myka says stay out of this._

Myka stared at the three wiggly dots in her messaging app, then ran her hand through her hair, looking around the hallway. The slightly murky, slightly scruffy, definitely deserted hallway.

This was Pride Week. In New York. There would be exactly zero free hotel rooms she could afford. 

Crap.

_I can’t reach Steve  
Pride Week, ya know *wince*  
Gimme a sec, I’ll fix this  
One second  
I promise_

The wiggly dots fell silent. With another steadying breath, Myka let herself sink against Claudia’s apartment door.

Her phone was connected to the Wi-Fi inside, even. It’d be funny, if… well. If she hadn’t shelled out what she’d shelled out on a _flight_ to _New York_ on _the eve of Pride Week_. If she hadn’t spent the last ten days working her ass off to shovel free these five days. She’d been working on the frickin’ plane, even! Despite-

The elevator dinged, and Myka could hear its doors rattle open. Then there were quick steps in the part of the hallway around the corner, and clipped-off sentences delivered in Received Pronunciation. “-out of the lift now, can you hear m- What? I literally have both hands full and zero time- Already in the buil- alright, that might-”

There was the unmistakable sound of paper tearing and something hitting the floor with a splash, and then there was the unmistakable sound of cursing. Then, “Claudia, I’ll call you back, alright?” the Englishwoman around the corner said. 

‘Claudia’? Alright, it wasn’t that rare a name – who knew which Claudia this woman had been talking to? Myka pushed herself off the wall and headed over to see if she could help. What she saw when she turned the corner was a slender, dark-haired person crouched on the floor, surrounded by fallen groceries and bent over a demolished brown paper bag, with another, intact one still balanced on her arm, and what had to have been a bag of ice exploded at her feet. 

“Hey, um, I can hold this for you,” Myka offered, stepping forward and reaching out for the second paper bag.

The woman looked up, and Myka froze.

What were the chances?

The woman was staring back at her, seemingly equally stunned. She caught herself faster, though. “Are you Claudia’s friend? My-?”

“Myka,” Myka nodded. She felt like her brain was definitely not running at capacity. “You were on the plane,” was all she could think of to say.

A tiny smile curled the corners of the woman’s lips. “Sitting next to you.”

“I know.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose delicately. “You did notice me, then? You looked spectacularly cross.”

Myka gulped. This couldn’t be happening. “I wasn’t,” she protested. “That was just my leave me alone face.”

The woman smirked. “Clearly worked. I would have loved to talk to you, but truly, I was afraid you’d bite me, and not in a good way.”

Myka flushed red-hot. “I was _working,_ and I had this outline to finish, and-” And then her brain caught up, and she stopped and retraced the conversation. “You’re friends with Claudia?”

The woman nodded, dropped the intact paper bag to a dry spot on the floor, and began to gather the dropped groceries. “Indeed I am. Helena Wells, apparently at your service – although I couldn’t fault you for doubting my skills as a knight errant at the moment.” She looked up with a truly devastating smile and a heart-stoppingly elegant gesture around herself. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but…”

“Oh! Yeah, no, of course. Here, let me help.” Myka picked up the unbroken bag, holding it securely with both hands linked together under its bottom, and then felt spectacularly useless as the woman – Helena – continued to pick up plastic bags of freezer meals and vegetables. “So, um, you live here?”

Helena nodded to a door right at the corner of the hallway. “Number twelve, yes.” Her phone rang and she shifted, causing one bag of frozen peas to slide from the stack she held in the crook of her elbow. Cursing recommenced. “Not now,” Helena growled as she grabbed the peas and flopped them back onto the stack and then clamped her hand on top. “Hah!” On cue, the phone fell silent. Helena rose – and then a look of utter sheepishness crept over her face. “Bollocks.” She cast Myka a glance halfway between pleading and embarrassed. “Could I potentially ask a very large favor of you?”

From the tone of her voice, Myka wasn’t sure if she’d be asked for a kidney, or just to save the bag of peas. “Um, yeah?”

“My apartment keys,” Helena said. “In my, ah, front pocket. I’m afraid I can’t quite-”

“Oh! Um. Yeah, hang on.” Myka shifted the bag so that it rested more or less safely on one splayed hand, and approached Helena with her other hand outstretched. “Um, which one?”

“Left. Ah, _my_ left.”

Myka bit her lips, telling herself that they were both grown women and these were extenuating circumstances and really, they’d been closer than this sitting next to each other in coach. Almost, anyway. _You didn’t have your hands in her pants then,_ her thoughts supplied helpfully, and her capillaries decided that this was as good a time as any to start a merry blush. “Got it!” Myka said, triumphantly holding the bunch of keys aloft. 

“The one with the purple nail polish dot,” Helena said with, Myka was glad to see, a good deal of pink in her own cheeks. 

Moments later, they were in Helena’s kitchen. Helena simply dumped her armload on the counter and started going through the cupboard under the sink; Myka’s feeling of helplessness made a return. “Um, anything I can do?”

“Oh! Yes, if you could put the frozen groceries in the freezer, please?” Helena said, turning and holding aloft a dustpan. “I’ll go clean up the ice.” Her phone rang again, and she answered as she headed back out into the hallway. “Yes? Yes! _Yes,_ for crying out loud, I’ll be there in a minute, just-” was all Myka heard before the door swung shut. 

Put frozen things in freezer. Right. Myka tried very hard to be cool about this, but this was a stranger’s kitchen and she probably had a system of what went where and Myka was probably wreaking havoc on it. Then again, Helena had _asked_ her to do this; she had to anticipate that some things would not land where she usually put them, right? So Myka did her best to put things where she thought they made sense, but the blush never really left her cheeks.

“I am so sorry,” Helena called out as she rushed back into the kitchen to dump shards of ice into the sink. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this; I’m running late to pick up my child, and I’m a bit…” She shook her head – her hair really was amazing. Myka had spent three and a half hours ignoring it this afternoon, but it really, really was just like black silk. “I thought I had enough time to grocery shop, but the place was so busy that the checkout line was simply ridiculous,” Helena sighed, running her hand through said hair as if to drive home how beautiful it was. “Let me get you Claudia’s keys,” she went on, already turning back towards the entryway, “so you can enjoy the rest of your evening in peace and forget about the chaotic neighbor.”

Fat chance. The words almost made it out of Myka’s mouth before Myka could catch herself. She hurried after Helena instead; the woman was running late and Myka was making it worse. 

Helena already stood in the doorway, holding out a keyring with a large and a small key, and a My Little Pony charm. “Apartment door and mailbox,” she explained, handing them over. “No key for the front door because obviously I have my own; just ring everyone’s bell, chances are someone will buzz you in. I’d go over with you and explain where everything is, but-”

“No, no, not-” Myka shook her head wildly. “Don’t worry. I understand. It’s fine; I’ve been at Claudia’s before; I’ll figure it out. Go get your kid. I’ll be fine.” And yet she lingered on the threshold. “I… um, guess I’ll see you around?” 

The smile she got in return was harried, rushed, and absolutely stunning. “Hoping yes.”

* * *

“-and Ms. Carina says that if things work out this year I can be on the main stage next year and Mum, it just _has_ to be perfect so _please_ can we-”

“Hold the door!” came a voice from outside the lift – a voice Helena instantly recognized. 

Her foot shot forward to keep the door from closing. “Got it!” she called out, and was rewarded with a beaming smile half-hidden by two bulging grocery bags. One of them teetered precariously as Myka Bering bumped her way into the elevator, and Helena grabbed it just in time. “All safe and sound,” she said as she hoisted it into her arms, and then bit her tongue – not a very erudite thing to say.

“Oh God, thank you,” Myka replied. Her eyes fell on Chris, who gave her a small, slightly confused wave, and Helena steeled herself for the inevitable. 

At least Myka was quick to make the connection between Helena speaking of picking up her child and the twelve-year-old standing in the lift with them. Then there was the customary double take, the mental calculation of respective ages – Helena knew she did not look older than she was, which was thirty-one – the deduction of the smaller number from the larger number, the arrival at a ‘very young mother’ number. Everyone who realized that Chris was Helena’s child went through this chain of deduction, and then, from everyone and regular like clockwork, it came: the crucial moment. 

Helena and Chris had a classification for people’s reactions. There were the unsalvageable ones: disgust, leering, fake concern; the positive ones: acceptance, even indifference (indifference was good, people turning away in disinterest – Helena would take that any day); and the indeterminate ones: poker faces, hums, stories of relating to their situation that could go either way.

Myka Bering, Helena thought, fell into indeterminate bordering on positive. There was most certainly a poker face, a very studied one if Helena was any judge, but if anything Myka looked like she was telling herself very carefully that this was none of her business.

In this case, though, Helena wasn’t sure if she was hoping for indifference. She’d sat next to this woman for three and a half hours on the plane from Denver to New York, driven to distraction by a scowl that clearly hid a formidable intellect, to judge by the speed with which eyes moved across book pages and fingers moved a pen across a notebook. Precise penmanship, too, even on a rickety plane table, even in a hurry. Now that Helena knew that she had been noticed in turn, she didn’t want Myka’s reaction to be _indifference._

“This is Chris,” she said, “the child I spoke of earlier. Chris, this is Myka Bering, a friend of Claudia’s.”

“Hi,” Chris replied with a polite smile – they’d noticed Myka’s reaction too, and were clearly waiting to see how it would resolve itself in the end. Their concern was, Helena knew, less about the matter of their mother’s age at conception – people typically didn’t judge the child for that – and more about the matter of their gender, or lack of clear definition thereof.

There was another moment’s worth of gears turning behind a carefully neutral façade – and then Myka Bering smiled, just as brightly as she had a moment ago when she’d seen that it was Helena in the elevator. “Hi, nice to meet you.” 

Midwestern Nice or not – was Colorado even considered the Midwest? Then again, Helena didn’t know if Myka even hailed from there; people moved, didn’t they? – the smile couldn’t be anything but genuine. If it wasn’t, Myka Bering had missed her call and should, in all honesty, be on a stage or in front of a camera rather than in a lift carrying groceries. 

And then Myka went on, “I’m Myka, and my pronouns are she, her, hers. Which pronouns would you like me to use for you?”

Chris’ eyes grew wide, then radiant, then shy. “I, uh… they and them and theirs?” they replied, and Helena’s heart burst with sudden pride and affection at how far her child had come in the past months.

“I can’t believe how empty Claudia’s fridge was,” Myka said, as if nothing momentous had happened at all. The lift jerked into motion. “Good thing that store has not just the logo on the bags but the address too,” she added. “I saw it on your bags and knew where to go; that’s the second time you’ve helped me out tonight. Thanks.” 

There was that smile again; it really lit up the place. Helena was dazed by it; dazzled, struck speechless. 

“Second time?” Chris asked, unknowingly salvaging the conversation while Helena tried her best to parse what was happening. 

“Claudia flew out to Denver to surprise me,” Myka explained with a wry roll of her eyes, “just like _I_ flew _here_ to surprise _her._ I’ve got neighbors that she knows and who she’s staying with now; she called Helena to give me her spare keys.”

“Seriously?” Chris grinned as the elevator came to a stop. “That is ridiculous levels of missed connection.”

Myka gave a short laugh. “Tell me about it. It gets better, though,” she added, lowering her voice and conspiratorially bending towards Chris as they all walked down the hallway. “I sat next to your mother on the flight.”

Chris groaned. “And she flirted with you, and you thought you’d never see her again, and then voilà, apartment neighbors? Dude, that’s a Hallmark movie.”

Helena was about to protest, or trip her own child – gently, of course, and with a great many subsequent apologies – or intervene in some other way that would prevent said child from embarrassing her further, when Myka laughed – and not just briefly, this time. No, this was a full-blown, sustained belly laugh that was indescribably beautiful and carried the three of them right to Helena’s door. Then there was the conspiratorial lean-in again. “No. No flirting, no meet-cute, no Hallmark movie. I scared her,” Myka said, deftly took the paper bag from Helena’s unresisting hands, turned on her heel, and sashayed to her – well, Claudia’s – apartment door.

The move would have been smooth as hell, if not for the fact that, once arrived, Myka had no hand free to get her key out of her pocket and unlock the door. 

Well, turnaround was fair play, Helena thought to herself as she walked down the hallway with as much poise as she could muster. “Which pocket, darling?” she asked, keeping her voice level and low, and relishing in the blush that it – or her words – brought to Myka’s cheek. 

“Oh Christ,” Myka muttered. Then she cleared her throat. “Back. Um, back pocket. Left back pocket.”

Helena allowed the merest spark of amusement to creep into her eyes as she retrieved the keys and leaned across Myka to open Claudia’s door. And yes, perhaps she did invade the woman’s personal space a bit more than strictly necessary. Perhaps she did linger a bit longer than strictly necessary. But oh, the way Myka Bering swallowed when Helena put the keys back where she’d found them. Scared indeed. 

“Oh my _God,_ Mum,” Chris groaned from the other door, breaking up the moment with a pre-teen’s eternal embarrassment over having parents, much less parents who flirted.

And now Myka was biting back a smile. “Any Pride things going on in the neighborhood that I could check out tomorrow?” she asked Helena. “Seeing as I’m here?”

“My dance!” Chris exclaimed from behind. “Come see us dance! One pm on the secondary stage!”

“I’ll be there,” Myka said, and when she let her smile run free, it was aimed at Chris and not Helena – but it warmed Helena to her core. 

Definitely a positive reaction.


	2. Boarding

Myka hit the streets early enough the next day to browse the vendor stalls and info booths, and just take in the energy of New York Pride in general. She’d always wanted to come; she and Claudia had talked about it for years, especially since Claudia’s birthday fell into the time around it. That Claudia could have thought that _Denver-_ Myka shook her head and dismissed the thought. Chris had been right yesterday: it was ridiculous and funny and made for a good story. Yeah, okay, she could’ve stood not to spend that much money on a plane ticket – but as of yesterday evening, she couldn’t think of that money as wasted anymore. Not when Helena Wells-

Okay, granted, Helena had a kid, and that wasn’t exactly what Myka was looking for, but-

And really, Myka wasn’t exactly _looking,_ not as such, but-

Both Helena and the kid had something about them that made Myka want to get to know them better. That was the long and short of it, really. Before the word ‘child’ had been mentioned, Myka would have considered a flirt with that gorgeous raven-haired British neighbor – not more, probably, not when she wanted to visit Claudia again in the future (ideally when Claudia was, y’know, _there), not_ when the prospect of running into a one-time-stand in the hallway was just too mortifying. But flirting, definitely. Myka would’ve flirted with Helena on the plane, had she not had the project report and its deadline hanging over her. 

Missed connection indeed. Or perhaps a case of getting more than you bargained for; who knew. Definitely a case of ‘want to get to know better’, that much Myka was certain of. And she had a time and place to do so, so at one pm sharp, she was standing in front of the secondary stage, listening to the emcee announce a choreography of Ms. Carina’s Dancing School’s best burgeoning talents. 

Fast beats sounded out and dancers ran onto the stage. Myka recognized Chris right away – they didn’t play the main character, but they did put their all into their supporting role. And their all was _good;_ really, really good. The story that unfolded had hints of Romeo and Juliet, but rather than feuding families, the two protagonists were up against all kinds of discrimination by the people around them – it was an inspired tale, considering the emcee’s introduction that the kids had come up with it themselves. Chris played one of the protagonist’s best friends, Mercutio if you wanted, and the way they made sure to showcase their ‘Romeo’s’ talents made Myka wonder if there wasn’t a crush involved. She clapped until her hands ached when the last chords and movement had died away, and only then noticed that someone had come up to join her. 

“They’re amazing,” she told Helena, then whooped as the whole group came forward on stage for another bow. “Great dancing, great acting.”

“They were involved in the story, too,” Helena said with shining eyes. “I’m indecently proud of them.”

“Definitely deserved,” Myka said. She followed Helena to the side of the stage and grinned when Chris threw themselves into their mother’s arms for some well-earned praise. “Great job, Chris!” 

“Myka! Hi! Did you see it? Did you like it?”

“It was amazing,” Myka said. “You were amazing.”

The two of them beamed at each other across Helena’s shoulder.

Chris was too hyped to feel hungry, but Myka had missed lunch to be there in time and knew she needed to find herself some food. As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one – Chris had barely put on street shoes before Helena was tugging them towards the food stalls. Myka had made a planning circuit of them earlier and pointed towards an empanadas stand that had called out to her; as they stood in line, Helena pulled a small bag from her purse. 

“Darling, I got something for you,” she told Chris. 

Chris opened the bag and shook its content into their hands – and then threw themselves around their mother’s neck again. “Thank you,” they whispered fervently.

Myka tore her eyes away to give the two of them some privacy, but then Chris held their hand up in front of her. 

“Myka, look! A pinwheel pronoun button!” Chris grinned excitedly. They blushed but forged on, “Sometimes I’m not… Sometimes I don’t know what fits, you know? Sometimes it’s she, sometimes he, sometimes everything just feels wrong and I have no idea…”

“Oh my gosh I’m not the only one,” someone said behind them. 

They all turned and came face to face with a teenager – fourteen, maybe fifteen, was Myka’s guess – who was now shying away from their attention. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to listen in-”

“Oh never mind that,” Chris reassured them. “You feel like this too?!”

“All – the – time,” the other kid said with wide, serious eyes, and just like that, the two of them were deep in conversation. 

Myka thought she saw a suspicious moistness in Helena’s eyes as she watched the two kids talk animatedly. “Pride is amazing, isn’t it,” she said quietly. 

“God yes,” Helena replied, tearing her eyes away. She gave Myka a quick, tremulous smile. “It’s so wonderful to feel like you don’t have to worry, you know?”

“I’m from Colorado Springs,” Myka said dryly. “So yeah, I do know. Couldn’t move away fast enough once I was old enough; only got as far as Denver, but even Denver is better than…” She sighed and shrugged. “Anyway. New York’s gotta be the dream, though. Or San Francisco.”

“London was quite friendly, too,” Helena volunteered as they made their way forward in the queue. “Not so much so to a nineteen-year-old mother, though. That’s why I moved here when I had the chance; haven’t regretted a single moment.”

“Yeah, me either, with Denver,” Myka said. They shared a smile. “So how do you know Claudia? Just through living in the same building?”

“No, the other way around, actually,” Helena said. “We knew each other beforehand, through college; when she was short a roommate and Chris and I were on the verge of losing our lease, she offered that we could move in with her. Bit awkward; that apartment really is not made for three people, but we made do. It seemed Chris and I made a good impression on the landlady; when the lease was up for number twelve, she actually asked us if we wanted it. Claudia found Steve not long after, so everything turned out perfectly.”

“Those two are something alright,” Myka laughed. “I haven’t even met him yet and I feel like I know everything about him.”

Helena laughed too. “Claudia is a bit of an oversharer, isn’t she.”

“Oh my God,” Myka groaned, “what has she told you about me?”

“Nothing untoward, let me assure you.” Helena’s laughter had settled into a smirk that wasn’t too reassuring, in Myka’s opinion. “She did say that you focusing on your work the way you did on the plane was very much in character, and that I should – and I quote – ‘drag her out of the house by her hair if necessary to enjoy the heck out of Pride Week.’” She tilted her head. “Something about your usual habits?”

Myka ducked slightly and rubbed the back of her neck. “Yes, well,” she sighed. “I’ve always been… ambitious. Driven, I guess some would say. But I wanted a doctorate and here I am,” she spread her hands slightly. She was blushing again, no matter how much she’d resolved to be prouder of her accomplishments. 

“Congratulations,” Helena beamed. “Which field?”

“Urban planning.”

“Oh that is fascinating; I thought about architecture for a while, but the call of nanotech was too loud. I’m working on my master’s thesis in the science of materials – think carbon fibers and the like?”

Myka nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Helena smiled back. “Takes a while juggling that and a full-time job and a twelve-year-old, but at least the job pays the bills for me and Chrissy.”

“Mum!” With unerring instinct, Chris had heard the nickname.

“Be glad I’m not calling you poppet like your nan does,” Helena gave back, unperturbed. 

“Are you guys British or something?” the other kid asked. 

“Was it the mum that gave it away, the poppet, or the nan?” Helena asked back and then nodded towards the teenager. “Hi, I’m Helena and yes, I’m from England. This one,” she pointed at Chris, “was born there but struggles with that daily; I suppose I can be glad that I’m still Mum and not Mom.” She drew out the O for emphasis and then shuddered. 

“I’m Wilson,” the teenager said.

“Myka,” Myka added. 

“We both,” Helena said and pointed first at Myka and then at herself, “use she/her pronouns; may I ask yours?”

“Oh!” Wilson said while Chris grinned. “They/them, and thanks for asking.”

“Mum, I think it’s our turn,” Chris pointed out, nudging Helena to turn around to face the food vendor. 

They said goodbye to Wilson after lunch, and explored the stalls that Myka had visited that morning. Myka got herself a ‘she/her’ pin from the same vendor that had sold the pinwheel variant; Helena then smacked her head and put on the pin she had gotten for herself as well, while Chris beamed some more. 

“You’re matching!” they said delightedly – and indeed, Myka had picked out the same design as Helena had, from the multiple ones available.

They both smiled at each other. 

As they turned from that booth, Helena tucked her hand into Myka’s arm. “Since we’re matching,” she said, as if that was any explanation – but Myka did not mind the contact whatsoever. 

She nodded seriously. “The crowd’s getting busier too,” she said. “Wouldn’t want to lose you two.”

Chris gave her a very level look, but refrained from commenting. 

It was wonderful to walk around the streets, taking in their atmosphere, relishing the fact that two women walking arm in arm didn’t raise any eyebrows whatsoever, nor did the clearly gender-non-conforming kid that walked alongside them. It was invigorating, inspiring – and infuriating in its novelty. Myka couldn’t help imagining her parents’ comments whenever she saw someone or something particularly flamboyant – _she_ loved it; they would not. 

_Still,_ she thought to herself, _this is the country’s biggest Pride festival; you always wanted to come and see. Enjoy it – don’t let the shortsightedness of others drag you down. Rejoice in what this is: a sign of how times have changed and are still changing; a celebration of the people who have brought about and still bring about this change. A reminder of how far we’ve come, and motivation to go further.  
_  
Chris was fascinated by the history of the Stonewall Riots, and on a whim, Myka bought them a book on the subject at one of the stalls. It was only after she handed it to them that she realized: “I hope you like to read?”

“Like?” Chris gave back. “Dude, I love reading!”

“Oh good,” Myka sighed in relief. 

“As if any child of mine would dislike books,” Helena scoffed and ruffled Chris’ hair. 

“Mum!” 

Afternoon was turning into evening when the three of them decided that they had seen everything they wanted to see. “Would you like to do some regular sightseeing?” Helena suggested to Myka. 

“No, I’m shot,” Myka replied. “I want to see the High Line while I’m here, but not today.” She let go of Helena’s arm and stretched. She wasn’t used to quite this much walking; her back was protesting loudly. 

“I like the High Line! We can go tomorrow!”

“Chris,” Helena said chidingly. “Myka didn’t come here to spend time with us, you know. She might want to go by herself.” She turned and guided them all towards a street that, Myka assumed, would take them home.

Chris visibly deflated. Myka shook her head; she had to straighten this out. “I had a lot of fun today,” she told them, “and I’d love to go with you. If you don’t have other plans, that is.”

“We don’t,” Chris said immediately, and just like that, the grin was back. “After breakfast, then? When do you get up? Are you jetlagged? How big is the time difference between here and Colorado?”

Helena gave an apologetic gesture, but Myka just grinned at her and started answering Chris’ questions. She enjoyed talking with the kid; they were bright, and curious, and extremely empathetic. Myka found herself reminded of a certain young gangly Colorado Springs teenager whenever she looked at them, with the difference that Chris had a mother whose love was clearly and ferociously unconditional. The trust between Chris and Helena ran deep, and made Myka feel both happy and envious.

* * *

“D’you wanna have dinner with us?”

Chris’ question stopped Helena short – not that she didn’t enjoy Myka’s company; not that she didn’t want for their time together to continue, but… she also didn’t want Myka to tire of said time together. “Chris…” she chided mildly. 

Her child gave her a look far too old for their years. “She probably doesn’t know where everything is in Claudia’s kitchen,” they told their mother archly, then turned back to Myka. “If you come over, it’ll be much faster – more efficient, right?”

“It is generally more efficient to cook for three people than just for one,” Myka agreed dryly. “Pete says so too; he and Amanda are my neighbors and friends, and I have lost count of how often they’ve cooked for me.”

Chris cast their mother a ‘see?!’ grin.

Helena took a deep breath. “Well, if you’re not tired of us quite yet,” she said, to test the waters, “absolutely consider yourself invited. Say in an hour?” Perhaps Myka wanted to freshen up, or have some alone time? Chris definitely needed a shower and so, probably, did Helena herself. 

“Sounds great,” Myka smiled. “I’ll just knock, shall I?”

Chris gave her a double thumbs up, and Myka turned and walked away with a little wave that made Helena’s heart flutter. 

Never before had anyone developed such an easy rapport with Chris so quickly. Come to think of it, Helena thought to herself as she opened her door and let herself and Chris inside, Myka had talked more with Chris than with Helena over the course of the afternoon. There had been no shortage of smiles cast Helena’s way, though – brilliant ones, hesitant ones, questioning ones, dry ones that bordered on smirks; Helena had catalogued them all. She wondered if, outside of Pride, Myka was as easily flirtatious and open – Pride had a magic all its own, which was breathtaking while it happened and heart-wrenching when it was over and the glitter and acceptance and rainbow floats were packed away.

Helena snorted at herself. Was she really thinking about how being around Myka might hold up post-Pride? That wasn’t the way of a summer fling – if that was even what this was. After all, it had been just one afternoon. A pleasant one, an enjoyable one no doubt, but just one afternoon-

“You like her, don’t you?”

-that her child had picked up on, too. Helena thought about her reply for a moment before saying, “I like how she is with you.”

Chris nodded. “Me too. She’s cool. She doesn’t look at me as if I’m just a silly kid who doesn’t know what they want.”

Helena’s breath stopped for a moment – that was exactly it, and of course Chris would pick up on that. “I thought so too.”

“So,” Chris went on, again with that old-fashioned look, “if you want to like her, that’s fine with me.”

Helena bit back a smile in favor of raising her eyebrows. “Oh it is, is it.”

Her child easily matched her arch for arch. _“You’re_ the one who always tells me that if someone can’t accept me, they’re not the right person for you. And now I give you my blessing and you make fun of me?”

“Your blessing!” Helena did her best to sound outraged. “Who are you to talk about blessings, youngling?”

Chris drew themselves up to all of their four feet eleven inches. “The most important person in your life, of course.”

Helena couldn’t fault them for that; she’d told them so herself, quite often in fact. “Truth. Now go take a shower.”

Chris grinned, blew a raspberry, and scarpered. 

Helena shook her head. Blessings indeed.

Over the course of the next fifty-five minutes, Chris told her to relax no less than six times, and to go and take a shower of her own no less than twice. Thankfully they didn’t reopen the ‘liking her’ question, although Helena suspected it was somewhat moot at this point. Chris’ grin underlying the second shower admonition certainly said as much. When Helena came out of the bathroom a record-breaking ten minutes later (not just a shower, thank you very much, but moisturizing and a bit of light make-up), she found Chris and Myka in the kitchen, pondering the contents of the top freezer drawer. She held back before coming in, not wanting to announce her presence just yet.

“Chicken tenders?” Myka was suggesting.

“With fries?” Chris sounded hopeful.

“You don’t have fries.”

“How do _you_ know?”

“You’re talking to the woman who put all this stuff in here yesterday; I know what you got and what you don’t, Buster.”

Chris snort-laughed, and then focused on the bags in front of them again. “Chili mac?”

Myka made a great show of side-eyeing them. “Instead of the tenders, right? Not alongside of.”

Chris gave a theatrical groan. “You’re no fun. I thought you were fun. But you’re not. You’re like all the other adults.”

“Hey!” Myka protested. Then her forehead crinkled and she tapped a finger against her lips. “On second thought… Y’know what? Yes. Yes I am.” She pulled the bag of chili mac out of the freezer and unfolded her limbs to look into the fridge. “I’m going to go full-on boring adult on you and point out this luscious lettuce here, these succulent tomatoes and crisp cucumbers, and what an absolutely _delicious_ salad they will make to go with the chili mac.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Helena said, stepping fully into the kitchen. 

“Mum!” Chris groaned, drawing out the word like bubble gum. “I’m being _starved!_ Do you know how many calories a growing person needs per day?”

“Eat a full helping of salad and we can talk about ice cream for dessert,” Helena replied immediately. 

“Okay.”

Myka’s eyebrows flew upwards. “That was quick.”

“Picking my battles,” Chris said diffidently and took the bag of frozen food from Myka’s unresisting hands. “Ice cream is my kryptonite and she knows it.” The bag, and a finger atop it, was pointed at Helena.

“What can I say,” Helena sighed and shrugged, “it’s all my own fault. I’m the one who raised you. Anything you do or don’t do falls back on me.”

“See?” Chris told Myka. “If I’m drama royalty, she only has herself to blame.” 

“I do see,” Myka said with a solemn, almost impressed nod. Then she tilted her head. “Your dramatic majesties, do you have any directions for me on how your salad is to be prepared?”

The woman was a marvel. Helena didn’t even mind being counted drama royalty; there was truth to it, after all. Chris was most certainly her child, for good or antics, and if she found reason to be proud of them every single day, well – that meant she was doing things mostly right, didn’t it? Everyone needed a bit of drama in their lives, for spice and variety if nothing else. The Wells household might be many things, but it would never be boring. 

And neither was Myka – granted, she seemed far less given to dramatics, seemed delightfully level-headed, in fact. But the quickness of her wit, the breadth of her knowledge, the sheer _delight_ of her laughter left Helena utterly smitten long before dinner was on the table. 

When everyone had served themselves, and Chris’ helping of salad had been deemed sufficient to keep the offer of ice cream on the table, Myka looked around the three of them, smiled, and said, “Y’know, yesterday at this time I was so angry at Claudia – well, not angry, really. She wanted to do something nice for me, after all, but- Anyway, I’m not angry anymore. Not a single bit. Because this?” She gestured around the table with her fork. “Is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Even before ice cream for dessert?” Chris asked. 

“Even with just a freezer meal?” was Helena’s question.

“Are you guys serious?” Myka asked back. “Because if you are, we need to talk about your observational powers, both of you.” She pointed the blunt end of her fork at Chris. “Do you honestly think ice cream can top your dance performance?”

“Well, Mum did get Ben & Jerry’s- I’m joking!” Chris laughed when Myka glared at them. “I guess it wasn’t so bad,” they added a bit sheepishly.

“No, no, no,” Myka said with a short look at Helena. “None of that pretend indifference or modesty, okay? You were amazing. Your dancing, your acting, and Helena tells me you were involved in the writing too?” When Chris nodded, Myka spread her hands. “That is amazing, okay? That’s talent, _and_ hard work, and it really shone today. _You_ really shone. Don’t hide that away. This feeling right now?” Because Chris was glowing – blushing, too, but glowing while they did. “Of pride, of accomplishment, of having done a great job? That is yours,” Myka said earnestly. “You earned that. Don’t let anyone take it away from you, and don’t deny it to yourself, either, okay?” 

Chris swallowed. Nodded. Licked their lips. Nodded again. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”

Again, Myka glanced at Helena. “Sorry if I’m coming on too strong here, but… well, full disclosure – my dad always had something to criticize about anything I did. So of course I internalized that way of thinking, right? I can’t begin to count how often I said ‘I guess it went okay’ or other words to that effect, because anything more than that was seen as bragging. And you know what that did?” Chris shook their head, eyes wide now. “Those feelings I just mentioned,” Myka went on. “It killed them. Stone dead. Shriveled them up, blew them away like dust in the wind. And it took me years to get that back. So don’t ever let anyone kill yours, okay, kid? Be proud of your accomplishments. Be proud of your hard work. Be proud, period. You were amazing on that stage today. You _are_ amazing. So no,” Myka finished, in a lighter voice, “Ben & Jerry’s can’t top that.”

“Christ,” Helena muttered under her breath, _“I_ need ice cream now.”

Chris gave a watery laugh. 

Dessert was had over a random Netflix movie, which turned out so awful that watching it grew into a snark-off that had the three of them crying with laughter. At one point, Chris was laughing so hard that they listed into Myka – and Helena realized that up until right then, Myka had refrained from touching or asking for touches. No handshake hello or outstretched hand in request of one, not with Helena, not with Chris, not even, if memory served, with Wilson in the empanada stand queue. And, Helena thought as she watched Myka steady Chris subtly with a hand on their shaking shoulder, it didn’t seem to because Myka disliked touching per se – she seemed fine with it when offered. Granted, she’d been embarrassed about the two keys-in-pockets situations, but then who would not have been? And it hadn’t been the mortification of someone who didn’t want other people to touch them whatsoever; Helena had been close enough, and adept enough at reading body language, to be quite sure of that. 

Myka Bering seemed too good to be true – and that scared Helena. Nothing was ever this good, nobody was ever this perfect; but God did she want her to be. Helena had been on her own ever since her child’s father had high-tailed it after learning he would be a child’s father – both he and her family had severed ties with her at that point. The prospect of having someone to share her life with-

She stopped her thought. One day; this had been _one day._ Granted, it had been a marvelous day, but still, anyone could make a good impression for one day. She needed to not get ahead of herself, to manage her expectations, to not come on too strongly, as Myka had put it earlier, and ruin a good thing with it.

She also needed to kiss Myka. 

Every time the woman said something, or laughed, or smiled, or quirked her lips in some other fashion, Helena was mesmerized, and she was worried that it was beginning to show. And that wouldn’t do at all. What if Myka thought her a creep? And what kind of example was she setting for her child, focusing on one singular (well, dual, to be precise) physical aspect over all the equally impressive intellectual assets Myka Bering boasted?

They were driving her to distraction, those lips. Thank goodness for a mother’s ability to parallel process and keep up a convincing conversation; she was reasonably sure she hadn’t been caught yet. She really needed to stop, though. But oh how could she ask that of herself when Myka looked like that when she threw her head back to laugh?

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Chris announced when the movie’s credits ran. “Can I leave you guys alone?” they added sternly.

Helena spluttered in protest while Myka laughed again. Then, as Chris left the room, Myka grabbed the bottle of wine and plopped down next to Helena on the sofa to refill both their glasses. “Your child is adorable.”

“Don’t tell them,” Helena warned. “You stand to get a twenty-minute oration if you use that specific adjective.”

“Duly noted,” Myka chuckled and handed Helena her glass. “In all seriousness, though, I don’t know when I’ve last laughed this hard. Thank you.” She clinked her glass to Helena’s before drinking from it.

“No, thank _you,”_ Helena replied and took a sip as well, if only to hide – or rather explain – the color in her cheeks. “I’m having a wonderful time as well.”

“Then will you come with us tomorrow?” Myka asked. “I wasn’t sure if… I mean Chris said they wanted to come, but I’m not sure if you do?”

“Yes!” Helena said, almost stumbling over the single syllable. “Yes, I… absolutely want to come. With you. With the two of you. God,” she groaned and put the glass down. “I blame the constant innuendos you both lobbed at the screen during this movie.”

“Innuendos?” Myka protested. “Come on, all of that was perfectly PG!”

And it had been, and maybe it was the alcohol or the sheer giddiness that had percolated within Helena all day, but she wanted to take it into decidedly less PG territory, and she had no idea how. It had been a while, after all. Helena groaned at the feeble, feeble pun, and put her head in her hand. 

“Hey, you alright?” Myka asked solicitously. 

Helena could feel her move, but still, she did not expect Myka to be quite so close when she opened her eyes again – inches away, really, and her eyes were so gentle and kind and worried.

“I want to kiss you,” Helena said, feeling that those five words were utterly inadequate but equally utterly unable to find others.

“God, I’ve wanted that all day,” Myka sighed, and the scent of wine was heady on her breath, and then her lips were soft on Helena’s lips, and then Helena’s thoughts stopped putting words to sensations and simply _sensed._

“Two minutes!” Chris exclaimed. “I even asked! ‘Can I leave you guys alone?’, I asked, and you said yes, and look at you now! My eyes! My poor twelve-year-old mind! I’m scarred! Scarred forever!”

“Oh my god,” Myka gasped, and for a moment, Helena was frozen by the thought that Chris’ antics might have mortified her. But then Myka proceeded to laugh – a bit out of breath, a bit sheepish, but still a true, amused, fond laugh. “You really _are_ drama royalty.”

“I blame my upbringing,” Chris shrugged, and plopped into the spot Myka had vacated. 

“You and Pete would get along like a house on fire,” Myka said.

“Pete? Your neighbor?”

“Not just my neighbor,” Myka explained. “Used to be my roommate, still is my best friend. He’s like my brother, and I’m so glad he and Amanda got back together, because let me tell you, all those comments I got when he roomed with me?” She rolled her eyes, even gave a fake gag. “A guy and a girl _can_ live together, even if one of them’s straight and the other is bi.”

“Going out on a limb here guessing,” Chris said with a grin.

Myka tossed a pillow at them. 

Helena couldn’t do anything but look on, waiting with bated breath for this bubble of perfection to burst – and then Chris looked straight at her. “Seriously?” her child said. “She gets to throw pillows and not be told off? Well, _now_ I’m jealous.”

And at that, Helena couldn’t do anything but laugh helplessly. Because if that was the only thing Chris was jealous about? She’d take it. She’d grab it with both hands and hold on tight.

* * *

Sunday dawned with as bright and blue a sky as to almost rival the Rockies. Myka woke with a smile on her face and laughter bubbling up inside her at the thought that she’d get to spend more time with Helena and Chris. She recognized the feeling coursing through her, and where only a few months ago it would have scared her-

Well. It scared her still, if she was honest. Sam had broken her heart when he’d gotten back together with his wife. But that had been three years and seven months now, and while Myka hadn’t been actively looking for someone new, finding someone like Helena was not something she’d deny herself. 

Chris was… unexpected, but not, to Myka’s surprise, an impediment. You could date someone who already had a kid; of course you could. It would be different – these days even rom-coms told you that – but it was doable, right? People did it all the time. So Helena had a prior attachment, someone in her life that would take precedence – but Chris was a different attachment, a different precedence than a not-quite-ex-wife who suddenly became top priority again. Two separate things, Myka told herself. Two very separate things. Just like Sam and her situation was unlike Pete and Amanda’s situation – maybe alike on the surface, but certainly not similar once you got beyond that.

She allowed herself forty-five minutes to deal with the most urgent of her work emails; better to do so on a vacation morning than to return to an inbox dumpster fire on Thursday. She needed to change her email signature, add her new title – should’ve done so before leaving, really; way too fiddly on mobile. She’d be damned if she didn’t put it in though; she’d worked too hard on her dissertation to be modest about the result now. Besides, how could she give a pep talk to a kid and then not heed her own words? She put a reminder in her calendar, first thing Thursday morning. The world of architecture and urban planning would know that it was dealing with Dr. Myka Bering now.

Chris beamed at her as they opened the door later that morning. Immediately the questions continued: had she slept well, how was her jetlag, had she been to see the High Line before, why had she never been to New York before, did she want to see the Statue of Liberty-

It was a wonder that Helena got in a few words of greeting, really. 

“Aren’t you going to kiss Mum hello?” was the next question out of Chris’ mouth. 

Helena blushed very adorably, and Myka could feel her own cheeks warming. “Would you like me to?” she asked. When Helena nodded after a short moment’s hesitation, Myka gave her a very modest peck on the cheek – God, the woman smelled amazing, and her skin was so soft. Myka blinked, trying to shake herself out of it. Just a kiss hello, that was all. Not the moment to blue-screen. 

The thing was, though: this wasn’t a libidinous blue-screen. Myka’s heart was beating in her throat, not… not somewhere further south. Her thoughts were – well, if they were saying _anything,_ it was ‘more of this, just this,’ and not ‘more but make it sexy.’ 

“Good morning to you too,” Helena murmured, and then cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Shall we, then?”

Getting out of the apartment was probably a good idea, Myka thought to herself. Leaving for her own bed yesterday night had been hard enough; she’d wanted to keep kissing Helena so, so badly – well, maybe not with her kid in the peanut gallery, but Chris had offered, actually, laughingly offered to busy themselves in their own room. But Myka hadn’t wanted to rush things, and had said so, and Helena had agreed, and they had kept their hands off each other and said their good nights and gone their separate ways. In Claudia terms, Myka had thought as she’d walked back to her friend’s apartment, she’d just increased her willpower stat by three points, potentially four. Five, if you counted the scent this morning that, somehow, Myka had still in her nose despite walking through the streets of New York.

No, Myka hadn’t been to the High Line before, but she’d sat a whole seminar on it during her architecture degree. It had directly led to her picking Urban Planning as a master’s, and now she was actually walking it – she had to stop herself from gushing, from spouting way too much information in one go. People didn’t like that, she knew. But Chris soaked up everything like a sponge, and Helena didn’t have that certain glazed-over look on her face either. 

“Am I boring you?” Myka asked, just to make sure. “I don’t want to bore you. It’s just, this is so fascinating, and-”

“And not boring at all,” Helena said emphatically. 

“Yeah, pssshhh no,” Chris agreed. “Hey, if I pick this as a project for, I don’t know, Civics or Social Studies or something next year, will you help me?”

“Sure,” Myka said readily. She wanted to keep in touch with these two, after all, and she’d been a tutor since she was fourteen: helping Chris with a project was not just right up her alley, it was also a much more innocuous way to stay in contact than to outright ask for Helena’s phone number.

“Awesome!” Chris beamed. 

“Remember what we talked about over breakfast, though,” Helena said. 

“But Mum, she said yes!”

“Because you asked, Chris. Not everyone feels at ease with saying no, and we don’t want to-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Chris sighed, and turned to Myka again. “I’m sorry. I swear I don’t want to be greedy. You know so much, though. And you’re cool about me asking you stuff. But if I’m being a bother-”

“You are not,” Myka said with a disbelieving laugh, “being a bother. Seriously, just no. You’re not. Don’t worry, okay?” She looked over Chris’ shoulder at Helena. “Both of you. I had a great time yesterday and I’m still having a great time today. Really, I’m glad we ran into each other, glad that Steve wasn’t there to let me in. I mean it’s not like I don’t like Steve,” she added hastily, “I do, he’s cool. I think. From what I know. But, I mean.” She bit her lips together and gestured helplessly, not sure how to bring across what she wanted to say.

“Probably wouldn’t have kissed Steve,” Helena added with a smirk on her lips that was just unfair. “Not like that, anyway.”

“Right, no, I wouldn’t have,” Myka said gratefully, heat shooting back into her cheeks. “Exactly. Um. So. No one is to talk about being a bother, okay? Unless… I mean if you… If _I’m_ being a bother-”

“You are not,” Helena said very decisively. This time her smile was much more reassuring. “I think we might even conclude that no one of us is being a bother for the time being. If that should change, we can still address it-”

“Oh my God, Mum, _stop!”_ Chris groaned. “Seriously, is _this_ how people flirt? Where’s all the screwball stuff, the banter, the intense eye contact, the totally-not-accidental touches, the totally-not-unintended innuendo I was promised?”

“You’re still thinking Hallmark movie, aren’t you?” Myka asked dryly.

“God, I hope not,” Helena muttered. “I should hope that whoever writes our story has more original ideas.”

“Yeah, like Bringing Up Baby!” Chris nodded. 

“You, youngling, are no leopard, though.”

“That’s right; I’m a cheetah, ask my teachers!”

Myka and Helena groaned in unison; Helena covered her eyes with her hand, Myka’s hand also came up but was diverted to the back of her neck instead to avoid further mirroring.

“That was godawful,” Helena said. She leveled her finger at Chris. “No ice cream tonight; not with puns like that.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Myka shrugged. “Maybe it’s Pete’s influence, but I think it falls under ‘so bad it almost circles back around to good’.” 

“Do you now?” Helena asked with raised eyebrows. She gave a prim little toss of her head. “Well in that case I suppose it’s good that _I_ call the shots when it comes to ice cream distribution.”

Myka blinked. That sounded – did that sound like a parenting discussion? 

Chris, too, was looking from her to Helena and back – not in confusion, though, but with something almost like glee glimmering in their eyes. “So this Pete guy,” they said, “he likes bad puns, then?”

“Don’t get me started,” Myka sighed, and the ensuing discussion of Pete’s flaws and more endearing qualities nicely steered them away from things that sounded like parenting discussions.

* * *

Time flew in Myka’s company. Before Helena knew it, Chris was asking for lunch. The kid got hungry every three hours like clockwork; God only knew how that would develop when they actually hit puberty. If that would actually happen. Helena had brought up the topic of blockers and her readiness to see a doctor for a consultation if Chris so wanted; Chris hadn’t reacted to it, not really, not yet. But the other parents in Helena’s Transparents group were advocating patience. Helena had taken the most important step, they told her, of ensuring that Chris knew that she was open for it; the ball was in Chris’ court now. It wasn’t a situation Helena was quite at ease with but, as someone had pointed out, it was a situation she had better get used to as the parent of a pre-teen. And Helena would rather bite her tongue off than give Chris the impression that their agency or opinion didn’t matter; that wasn’t the kind of mother she wanted to be.

She envied the ease with which Myka interacted with Chris – a bit, anyway. She was also pulled in by it, helpless to her mind envisioning this interaction as a constant instead of a one-off. Wishful thinking, she was sure; yes, Myka had said she was having fun, but how much of that fun was due to the fact that there were no strings attached, that Myka could simply return home to Denver and never spare another moment’s thought on Helena and Chris Wells? And did Helena have a right to lament that? What was she doing, wishing that this was as serious for Myka as it… was… for her – oh God, it was serious for her. She was wishing that something more would develop from these two days of ambling through New York. That Myka would return, or stay, or at least say she wanted to return or stay – but Helena couldn’t ask that of her. The woman had a career, a company that had supported her while she obtained a doctorate; you didn’t give that up for two nice days ambling through New York. Helena couldn’t ask that. In fact, one might even say she was afraid to ask that.

Chris was her number one priority; always had been and always would be. With their father absent, Helena had been the only parental figure in Chris’ life, and she hadn’t minded; Chris was a wonderful child (dramatics notwithstanding), and Helena couldn’t love them more if she tried. And if that meant that her standards for who got accepted into their family circle were… exacting, well, was that such a bad thing? And those standards had only risen when Chris had opened up about their gender questioning. If Helena hadn’t been so adamant to only make friends with open-minded people, that kind of revelation could have led to disastrous consequences. That they had not lost a single one of their – admittedly few – close friends over it was testament of how important her exacting standards were, was it not? 

But that had always been about friends, not potential… lovers? Partners? Whatever you wanted to call it, Helena’s standards for that were even higher. Unattainable, really, because part of her hadn’t wanted to add a romantic relationship to the equation. Life was like juggling seven balls at once already anyway; why add another? Besides, she hadn’t felt ready for it, after Chris’ father had left her the way he had. Hadn’t felt ready to risk the same thing happening again. 

But was she ready now?

Whenever she consciously looked at Myka, spoke with Myka, watched Myka laugh or talk or hip-check Chris, the answer to that was a resounding Yes; whenever she got lost in her thoughts, doubts started to creep in. It wasn’t just about _her_ heart getting broken either; Chris was already latching on to Myka, Helena could see that. Chris wanted Helena to flirt with Myka, to see if there was something more than flirting in the offering. They had outright said so last night, and their whole behavior today was proof of it. 

But Chris was twelve – a good judge of character, granted, but still only twelve. They hadn’t had their heart broken yet, and Helena knew she couldn’t prevent it from happening, but she could damn well try, and she could damn well make sure that her child’s heart wasn’t being broken by anything that she did. 

The opportunity to mention this came when, after an afternoon snack of crepes and ice cream, Chris announced that they had to use the restroom. 

“I don’t-” Myka began, when Chris was out of earshot.

“Myka, I-” Helena said at the same time. 

They both laughed and gestured for the other to go on. In the end, it was Myka who continued. “Listen,” she said, “earlier, when you were talking about puns and ice cream. I, um… I didn’t want to… butt in. Like, of course you are the one who decides if Chris gets ice cream or not. And I’m sorry if I… if I came across as… I don’t know, as entitled to an opinion in the matter. I’m not. Obviously. I mean I know that.”

Helena blinked. She’d already half-forgotten about the exchange, in all honesty. “Oh,” she said weakly. She swallowed. “I… hadn’t gotten the impression,” she said and then added with a half-smile, “I don’t think I ever questioned that anyone but me would have a say in the matter.”

“Oh,” Myka echoed her. “Have you never-” She stopped herself. “Sorry, that’s a personal question. Forget I asked.” 

“No, please,” Helena said. “Go ahead.”

“I was… wondering if… I mean if it’s always been just Chris and you, and not a… a second parent, it would make sense that you never questioned that.”

Helena smiled briefly. “Bang on the money,” she said. “Just the two of us. Their father left before they were even born.”

“Oh wow.” Myka’s face settled into a frown. “That can’t have been easy.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Helena sighed. “But I got used to it. In fact, I wanted it to be that way. I got my heart broken; I didn’t want anyone to break Chris’ on top of that. So I’ve never… looked.” She took a steadying breath and tried to meet Myka’s eyes. “But maybe… Maybe things are changing. On that front. My child is certainly convinced that they should.”

“Started to play the matchmaker, have they?”

Helena shook her head. “Only with you,” she said and then bit her tongue. Had that been too blunt? Too much? Myka seemed stunned; she wasn’t saying anything. “Myka, I don’t… I’m not… We’ve known each other for two days; I know that’s not…” Again, Helena shook her head. “But you said you’ve enjoyed the time with us, and so have I. I keep looking at you and wondering… Two days!” She gave a short laugh. “It feels like longer,” she admitted quietly. 

“To me too,” Myka said in an equally low voice. “And… and I’m nervous too.” She bit her lip; it looked as though she was on the verge of saying something more, but then Chris returned, and the moment was most definitely lost.

Helena had to give her child credit, though: Chris seemed to know that something was up. As the three of them came closer to Chris’ fourth-favorite bookstore, they turned to Helena and said, “Can we go in? I wanted to look for… y’know. Something to spend my pocket money on?” And then, with a not-very-sly look at Myka, they added, “Or, you know, I could go in by myself and you could wait out here, sit down on a bench, enjoy the sunshine?”

“Tough call,” Myka said, clearly only half joking. “On the one hand, bookstore. On the other…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but the look she gave Helena spoke for itself. 

“Okay, I’ll be back in like half an hour or so,” Chris said and speeded up their steps. “An hour max!” they threw over their shoulder.

Helena huffed out a laugh and shook her head, but did head for the one bench that was currently free. She sat down and patted the wooden slats in invitation. “It seems we have been maneuvered into having a talk,” she said as Myka sat down next to her.

Myka laughed, too. “Your kid is something else,” she said. 

“They’ve always been pretty perceptive,” Helena said. “I do wonder, sometimes, how much of that stems from them questioning themselves. Or gauging whether others are trustworthy or not.” It was a painful thought. It tended to keep Helena awake at night – navigating the world as an adult whose sexuality was, if not the norm, then at least clearly defined and halfway accepted was one thing; navigating the world as a questioning pre-teen whose mother could do only so much to shield them from harm?

Myka gently nudged Helena’s shoulder with her own. “They seem to be doing fine,” she said quietly. “And I realize I don’t have a lot of first-hand knowledge to base that on, so take it for what it’s worth.”

“Sometimes the outsider sees more of the game,” Helena said.

“Yeah, something like that.” Myka was silent for a moment. “Earlier, when… when we were talking. When I, um, said that I was nervous.” She threw Helena a small, lopsided smile. “Full disclosure: I haven’t felt like dating for a long time either. I mean not as long as- not twelve years. But I… I guess I got my heart broken, too. And I haven’t felt like running that risk again for… for a while. Quite a while. Three years, seven months. I try not to count the days; he’s not worth it.” This time when Myka’s lips quirked, it wasn’t a smile. More a painful grimace. “So yeah, that part I totally get, including the bits where your nervousness is different than mine, right, because I’m not… I don’t have a kid to think of on top of everything else. But I get it. I don’t wanna get hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you, and I hella don’t want to hurt Chris. That much I can say, even after only two days, you know?”

Helena nodded. Her heart was beating in her throat, preventing any words from coming out, but Myka didn’t seem to mind. 

“And I mean it doesn’t make things easier that we don’t even live in the same place, right? Like, relationships are hard enough, but long distance? I never had one, but I mean you hear things.” She waggled her eyebrows, then rolled her eyes at herself and rubbed the back of her neck. She shifted on the bench, angling herself to face Helena, and gripped the seat left and right of her knees. “So if all of this is too much, if you need me to back off, I get that, too. And I will. But…” She dropped her gaze and pressed her lips together.

“But?” Helena prompted when Myka didn’t go on. It came out croaky.

“But if you wanna try, I’m… I’m down for that,” Myka said, so quietly that it almost got lost in the sound of the other people walking, talking, laughing around them. “I… I gotta add that I don’t really know how to do that, but, uh, I’m willing to learn? And I’m a, a, a quick study, and-”

Helena leaned forward and stopped Myka’s rambling by pressing her lips on hers. “Okay,” she said then.

“O-okay?” 

Helena nodded. “Okay.” She felt oddly weightless; at once jittery and very, very still. 

“Okay as in…?”

Helena tried to smile. “Okay as in I’d like to try too. And I don’t think I know any better how to go about it than you do, but, all things considered, that might not be such a bad thing.”

Myka’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Easier to admit and forgive mistakes when they happen? Because we both know we’re bumbling amateurs?”

Helena’s eyebrows rose. “I might not have put it quite that way, but yes. Essentially.”

And there it was: Myka smiled. Head tilted, eyes downcast, color in her cheek – a truly wondrous sight. “Okay,” she said. And then it was her who leaned forwards and kissed Helena, and just like that morning, it wasn’t a heated kiss. That one had been tentative; this one was too, a bit less so in some ways, a bit more so in others. Maybe one day they would kiss each other with more confidence, Helena thought. With the reassurance of years of relationship behind them, of hundreds of mornings of waking up together, of arguments resolved and challenges mastered. Right here, on this bench, five years ahead. Or ten. Or more, even. 

She thought it was worth a try.


	3. In The Air

Myka snuggled back into the couch with her ice cream. Labor Day was Tuesday and her job had given everyone Monday off in a surprisingly nice gesture; today, Saturday, Day One of this four-day weekend, had been spent cleaning and grocery shopping and generally doing all the things she needed to do to prepare for three days of doing precisely what she wanted. Pete and Amanda were busy preparing for the new school year – Amanda was a teacher and Pete a social worker in a different school – and so they wouldn’t be seeing each other, but Myka was looking forward to three full days to herself. Oh, she had plans. There were a lot of things she wanted to do.

And one of those things was video-calling Helena. 

Because they were in a relationship now. Long distance, yes, but a relationship nevertheless. And since that decision, video calls were no longer a work thing only, and nights alone were starting to get frustrating. 

Myka hadn’t been in New York since Pride, and Helena hadn’t visited her in Denver yet. There were times when Myka missed Helena – and Chris too – with a strength that quite literally made her heart ache. She wouldn’t have thought it possible that a heart could ache from love and not just from being broken, but here she was, seven pm on a Saturday evening, on her couch, with ice cream and her Netflix list, and-

Her doorbell rang.

Myka frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone?

There was a knock on her door. 

What the-? Myka got up and padded over to look through the peephole. “Helena?!” She flung the door wide and stared at the vision before her. 

“Hello, darling,” Helena replied with a shy smile and a shrug that spread her arms. “Ta-dah?”

“What are you-” Myka began, and then it clicked. “Oh my God. You’re here. You’re here!” And she surged forward to wrap her arms around the woman in front of her. 

“I am that,” Helena said, snuggling her nose into the crook of Myka’s neck and inhaling deeply. “I am that.”

In bits and pieces, in between pulling Helena inside and hugging her some more and offering her to freshen up and all those little things one might do when a loved one suddenly stood in the door, Myka puzzled together what had happened: Helena had come to surprise her, leaving Chris with Steve and Claudia – “In between the two of them,” Helena said, “I’m reasonably sure my child will be alright.” By then she had her own spoon to dip into the ice cream container. When she leaned forward and gave Myka a soft kiss on the cheek, her lips were cool; when Myka turned to kiss her more fully, they tasted of vanilla and chocolate. The contrast between cold and warmth was intoxicating heady on Myka’s senses. She ran her tongue over Helena’s lower lip and felt rather than heard her shuddering exhale against her skin. 

“Myka,” Helena gasped, pulling away the minutest amount. 

Myka gave chase; she wanted to feel that huffed exhale again, wanted to cause it. 

“Myka,” Helena said again, leaning her forehead against Myka’s and putting her hand flat on Myka’s sternum. 

“Too fast?” Myka asked. Her voice sounded throaty, and she swallowed. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Helena interrupted. She, too, sounded affected. “I just… Would you give me a moment?”

“Of course,” Myka said quickly. She sat up straighter, and withdrew her hands from where they’d rested on Helena’s waist, wrapped them around Helena’s fingers instead. “As much as you need, babe.”

Helena gave her a wavering smile. “Would you believe that ever since I started out planning this I’ve been pondering whether or not to define this as a booty call?” She tugged one hand free and ran it through her hair, then shook her head. “Obviously the intent was to spend time with you with only the two of us, with the secondary obvious intent to…” she gestured vaguely and bit her lip.

“Yeah,” Myka nodded, if only to take the pressure out of the moment. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But it doesn’t have to be… that.”

“I know!” Helena said, and her hand raked her hair again. She gave a frustrated huff, and then sent Myka another, slightly more stable smile. “I know. That’s what I’ve been telling myself. That whatever happens, we will simply have some time to spend between the two of us, doing whatever we please, whatever we both feel we want and all that. And I _want-”_ she said forcefully. “I want… that. Please don’t think I don’t. Unless-” she added, looking suddenly anxious, “unless you don’t?”

“No!” Myka said immediately. “I mean yes! I do! I do want. Um, that. But just like you said. Whatever _we_ feel we want. There’s no pressure, okay? What I want most,”she said, squeezing Helena’s hand for emphasis, “is for you to feel good, to feel comfortable, alright?”

Helena’s inhale was tremulous, as was her smile. She reached out for the glass of water Myka had gotten her, drinking from it to hide her face behind it and order her thoughts, Myka was pretty sure. 

“Look, I’m nervous too,” Myka added. “I’ve missed you. So much. I’ve literally dreamed of hugging you-”

“So you’ve told me,” Helena interjected with a smile that Myka immediately returned. 

“-and so maybe let’s just snuggle for a bit? There’s no hurry-” She broke off and frowned as a question occurred to her. It was a pretty significant question, and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. “How long are you staying?”

“Wednesday morning,” Helena said, pressing her lips together and looking aside. “Flights were so much cheaper than for Tuesday.”

Myka tilted her head. “What’s wrong?” And then she realized: Wednesday was the first day of school.

Helena made a small, disparaging noise in the back of her throat. “Nothing, really. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but…” She pursed her lips, then sighed. “It _is_ not a big deal. Chris is almost thirteen; they know perfectly well how to get ready for school, and they’ll have Steve and Claudia to help. I really shouldn’t worry.”

Myka smiled fondly. “And yet you do.” She leaned forward and kissed Helena’s cheek. “Which I understand.”

“Speaking of,” Helena said and looked at her watch. “Oh good, we still have a few minutes. I said I’d video-call goodnight at eight.” Again, she rolled her eyes. “I’m more than certain my child will not go to bed afterwards, but then what are occasions like this for, if not for some rule-bending.”

“I have some hope for Steve,” Myka said. She’d met Claudia’s roommate during the five days she’d been in New York; the man was calm and responsible, the kind of person Myka would instantly hire as a babysitter if she had a child. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? She didn’t have a child; for her, these matters were hypotheticals. Helena, on the other hand, was the one for whom this was reality, who had to make these calls, and Myka knew damn well that when it came right down to it, Helena knew how that felt, and she didn’t. 

“From your mouth straight to his ear, I hope,” Helena sighed. She looked at her wristwatch again. “Might we use your laptop?” she asked. “Or should I get my phone?”

“I’ll go grab my laptop,” Myka said and got up. She swung by the kitchen to toss the empty tub of ice cream, and then returned and opened up the computer on the coffee table. When she looked up at Helena, it was to see a bemused smile cross her face. “What?” she asked, smiling back. 

“Fascinating to see it from this side,” Helena said. “I’ve wondered how you had it set up.” She gave Myka a quick peck on the lips. “Darling, I’d like to apologize for earlier.”

Myka frowned. “For what?” Then it dawned on her. “Oh, the stopping and taking some time thing?” When Helena nodded, Myka returned the kiss, lingering a bit longer, softening her lips just a little bit more than Helena had. “Hey. It’s nothing, _nothing_ you need to apologize for. At all. Ever.”

“But I don’t want you to feel like I’m leading you on!” Helena protested. 

“And I’m not!” Myka replied. “That wasn’t you leading me on – that was… you thought you wanted that, or we both wanted that, and then it happened and you realized it was too much. Or maybe you’d been telling yourself that it wasn’t too much, that it shouldn’t be too much, but then it was. Right?” Helena hesitated, then nodded mutely. Myka caught her hands again and squeezed them. “Please,” she said, “Helena, when that happens, there’s only one thing I want you to do, and apologizing is not it, okay? It’s letting me know. Regardless of what we’re doing. Seriously, even if we’re in the middle of whatever… stuff we might get up to. I _want_ you to tell me, or push me away, or let me know in some other way. I need you to know that that’s okay, and frankly,” she added, tilting her head with a tiny bit of challenge in her gaze, “I also need to know that that’s something I can do too, when I feel like that.”

“But of _course_ you-” Helena began, and then stopped herself to level a glare at Myka. “For the record: I see what you did there,” she said.

“I know you do,” Myka gave back smugly. “So that’s settled?”

Helena held the glare for a moment longer, then dropped it with a huff. “I suppose.”

“Good.” Myka grinned, turned to the laptop and opened the video calling app.

It felt odd, having Helena sit next to her and seeing Claudia and Chris on the screen (Steve, apparently, had volunteered to go grocery shopping; even Myka felt reassured knowing that he was the one who picked what they’d be eating the next few days). Chris seemed to be at ease with the situation, goofing around with Claudia, each trying to top the other’s puns as they told Helena how the hours since her departure had gone. 

It felt like family, Myka realized as she watched Steve come in and burst into fake outrage at some antic or other Chris and Claudia were pulling at that moment. “Children; I’m surrounded by children,” he was exclaiming, throwing his hands up to the heavens, and Helena looked so much more relaxed than before the call, and Myka knew that this was what she wanted. Well, not quite. Ideally with everyone in one room and not separated by thousands of miles, but… yeah. These people, in her life. Helena by her side, Chris grinning at the two of them from across the table, antics from them or Claudia or Pete, Amanda fondly pretending to be irritated, Steve’s bemused smile – she wanted that. 

She thought that what with Claudia and Chris dominating the conversation the way they did, nobody had noticed her being a bit quieter than usual – but when they’d ended the call, Helena turned to her. “Are you alright, darling? You aren’t put out about me coming to surprise you, are you?”

“What? No!” Myka hurried to say. “No. God, no – I love that you’re here.” She underlined her words with a kiss to Helena’s cheek. “I just…” She hesitated. They hadn’t really spoken of this before. Was it too early? Too much pressure, again, when she’d tried to take it off of Helena not that long ago?

“What is it? Please, Myka-”

“I missed you,” Myka blurted out. “And I wish we didn’t-” She hung her head, feeling the familiar heat of a blush rise from the base of her neck all the way to the tips of her ears. “I wish I could see you more often. Like, actually see you, in person, not on my phone or laptop. I wish we-”

“Lived together?” Helena said quietly.

So Helena had thought about it too? Was thinking about it? “Yeah,” Myka said, heart beating in her throat. “And I don’t want to come across too strong or anything, I just-”

“Myka.”

Myka fell silent, pressing her lips together for good measure. And then she felt a hand on her cheek, felt the slight pressure it exerted to make her look up, look at Helena, followed that pressure, found fond eyes. 

“I wish for that too,” Helena said. “Jokes about U-hauling aside, only seeing your face on a screen is… not enough. I can’t do this with a screen.” Helena stroked her thumb across Myka’s cheek. “Can’t do that with a screen.” She pressed a kiss to Myka’s other cheek. “Or this.” She kissed Myka on the lips. “You on a screen is a pale copy of you in real life, and I’d rather have access to the original, you see.” She kissed Myka again, and lingered, and pulled with her hand and pushed with her tongue, and neither of them felt like withdrawing. 

But, enjoyable though it was, Myka couldn’t shake the feeling that Helena was tense, was pushing herself. And when that didn’t get better even after a while, she pulled away again. “Listen,” she said, with her hands cupping Helena’s face now, “please, don’t… don’t make yourself do this. Come on, come here.” She leaned back into the backrest and held out her arm. When Helena hesitated, she added, “Or not, that’s fine too,” and lowered her arm. 

Helena bit her lip and looked aside. With an aggravated huff, she ran both hands through her hair and then flopped them into her lap. “This is really not how I thought this would go.”

“What can I do to make it easier?” Myka asked. 

Helena gave her a startled look.

“I mean it,” Myka insisted. 

At that, Helena’s expression turned first surprised, then pensive. Then she gave Myka a small smile. “That, too, is unexpected.” She heaved a sigh. “I suppose what it boils down to is that I don’t know how to do this. Which would, I have no doubt, come as a complete surprise to anyone who knows me as the greatest flirt alive, but… flirting is easy when it’s inconsequential. You, us,” her tongue darted across her lips, her eyes darted over to Myka, “anything but, you see. So I’m petrified of doing something wrong. Of not meeting your expectations. Of botching this.” She shook herself with a short laugh, and looked directly at Myka. “Full disclosure, as you like to say: there isn’t much experience I can draw on when it comes to relationships. My parents hated each other and stayed together merely for appearances; I didn’t actually date much in school, and then Chris’ father… well.”

Myka nodded; Helena had told her how the man had up and left the moment she’d told him about the pregnancy. 

“So a sentence like ‘what can I do to make it easier?’ – Myka, I have no idea how to react to that.”

“I get that,” Myka said with another nod. “And I can’t really say I have a lot of experience either – I mean my parents, okay. They do love each other, I know that. But I don’t really… I don’t know how they make it work, seriously. Except that possibly my mom just swallows a lot of her anger? Maybe? I mean I hope not, but they don’t really talk about it, so that’s my theory. And yeah, I didn’t date in school either. I had one relationship in college, and then Sam.” She laughed bitterly. “I felt like such an idiot after that. So stereotypically stupid. ‘I know everyone says not to get into it with a guy who’s still married, but _my_ guy’s _different,’”_ she said in sing-song. “But I think we’ve got two things going for us, you and me,” she went on, leaning forward to catch Helena’s gaze. “One, we both believe that grown-ups can still learn things, so we can learn to do this, and two, you do have twelve years’ worth of experience. I mean sure, not a romantic relationship, but surely some of that can be transferred?”

Helena looked stunned for a moment, then shook her head with a wry smile. “I like the way you think,” she said. 

“Good,” Myka said decisively. “Now, what would you like to do? Offer of snuggles still stand. We can watch something, or talk, or just sit and enjoy being with each other. Oh – would you like some more water? Something stronger?”

Helena chuckled. “Just water, yes, thank you. Alcohol after traveling isn’t good for me, for some reason. And then I think I would enjoy sitting with you and watching something together before we go to sleep.”

“That’s right,” Myka said, snapping her fingers. “You’re two hours ahead. Okay, I’ll go and grab us water; you pick out something you want to watch?” She pulled up the Netflix app on her phone and handed it to Helena. “Be right back.”

It was… calming, to sit on the couch with Helena, to watch a random episode of Castle with her, to feel Helena’s body warmth against her arm, to curl that arm around her shoulders, to feel Helena’s body weight grow heavier against her as the episode progressed. 

“This is nice,” Helena murmured at some point, and Myka couldn’t help but agree.

* * *

Helena woke when she was jostled by sudden movement – Myka was leaning forwards, she realized as her sluggish thoughts started responding. Turning off the TV, she saw. “Episode over?” she mumbled, squinting her eyes close even though the light wasn’t bright. 

“Two of them,” Myka said with a low chuckle. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.” She rose and held out a hand to help Helena up, who promptly stumbled into her on legs made ungraceful by sleepiness. “Easy,” she cautioned, wrapping an arm around Helena’s waist. 

It was indeed easy to lean into Myka, to let her guide her around the apartment towards bathroom and bedroom. It was in the latter that they ended up looking at each other, both clad in PJs and ready for bed. 

“Would you like to share the bed?” Myka asked. “If not, that’s fine, I’ll just sleep on the couch then.”

“No, I… That won’t be necessary,” Helena said. Yes, she still had Myka’s admonitions not to push herself in her ear, but she _wanted_ this. Snuggling into Myka’s side on the couch had been so nice; she wanted to try and see if they couldn’t sleep that way. “I’m sure,” she added, because Myka was looking a bit dubious. “As in, I haven’t really done this, but I’d like to try.”

That made Myka’s expression clear up. “Gotcha. Yeah, same for me. Let’s go ahead and try it, then. I’ll just throw some sheets on the couch, so if we realize it’s not working in the middle of the night, I won’t have to do it then.”

She sounded so matter-of-fact, as if this offer was the most natural thing in the world – and maybe it was, to her, Helena realized. Maybe this was truly the most natural thing in the world for Myka, or at least what she saw as the right thing to do, given that she was as unexperienced in this as Helena was. It made sense from the point of view of being prepared for every eventuality; it was indeed eminently sensible. Helena might have come up with a similar solution, had her thought processes not been hampered by tiredness. Instead she found herself waiting for Myka to return, uncertain which side of the bed to choose. 

“Oh!” Myka exclaimed with a laugh when she was back and Helena asked her. “I, uh, have no idea. If you have a preference, by all means go for it?”

They ended up with Myka on the left and Helena on the right, which was how they’d sat on the couch as well. Myka offered her arm again, and Helena snuggled into her side. It took a bit of awkward maneuvering to find a position that was comfortable for both of them, but Helena was too tired to let it bother her too much; all she wanted was to sink into the same warm place again that she’d been in on the couch, and drop off to sleep again. 

“If you get too warm or anything, let me know, okay?” Myka said.

Helena murmured something vaguely affirmative; she heard Myka chuckle, felt her press a kiss to the crown of Helena’s head, and then she fell asleep. She woke up once during the night, slightly disoriented by the soft, pliant warmth all along her side, realized ‘Myka’, and sank under again. When she woke the next time, dawn was grey around the curtains and she was too hot – but she didn’t mind the early hour nor the temperature. 

Myka was lying half atop of her, leg and hip and arm covering Helena’s left side, curls tickling her temple. Helena had no hope of extricating herself, nor did she want to. This was… this was nice. And terrifying. And she needed to tell Myka this, needed to get Myka to understand why, in this space that by all feats of the imagination should feel safe and relaxing, her heart was hammering in her throat and her legs were itching to carry her out of bed and maybe a lot farther than that. 

It took Myka quite a while longer to wake up, and her soft sleepy sounds and drowsy words, the way she burrowed into Helena’s arms with a satisfied smile, all of that served to distract Helena, even if it didn’t quite set her at ease. It helped her hold off on assailing Myka with her insecurities too soon; she managed to wait until after breakfast, showers, tooth brushing and all that. 

“So,” Myka said, flopping down on the couch next to Helena, consciously or unconsciously mirroring the way they’d sat yesterday. “What d’you wanna do? Check out a museum? Go for a hike?”

Helena took all her courage and said, “Have a talk?” She couldn’t help her voice going up at the end; couldn’t help ducking her head and looking away. 

“Oh!” Myka sat forward a little, shifted to better look at Helena. “Sure. What about?”

Helena pressed her lips together. Now that she’d made the first move, she felt stymied as to what the next one should be. 

“About being nervous?” Myka suggested. Helena could only nod. And then she felt Myka’s hands curl around hers. “You didn’t think,” Myka said almost jokingly, “that that would go away after one night. Did you?”

Helena tried to smile, but it fell short, she knew. “Perhaps part of me did,” she said, still not meeting Myka’s eyes. “Perhaps part of me expected that once I saw you in person again, once I just…” She shook her head as she withdrew one hand and gestured between them. “Silly, really.”

“Then we both are,” Myka said gently. She caught Helena’s hand again, cradling it lightly in her own. “Because I’ve had the same thought. That the reason this seems so hard, so scary, was that you weren’t here, or I wasn’t there. And maybe that’s true, even; I mean they do say that snuggling strengthens a relationship, right?” She gave Helena’s hands a small squeeze. 

Helena nodded, but her frown lingered, and she found herself clinging to Myka’s hands. “Yes, I’ve read that too, but…” She shifted in her seat, and finally got up to look out of the living room window at the street outside. Bereft of the reassurance of Myka’s hold, her hands found each other and began to fidget. “That’s not the only thing. Physicality, I mean. Yes, it is definitely _a_ thing, but…” She dropped her hands and tried to roll her shoulders; God, she was tense. “And I know we’ve talked about this before, a little, but that was…” It had been only a video call, a few weeks in. Just a few sentences, and while Myka had sounded sincere, Helena couldn’t quite trust that yet. “I’m sorry,” she said and swallowed. “I want to… I need to bring it up again.”

When she dared to look back over her shoulder at Myka on the couch, she could see Myka’s confusion. But she could also see Myka nod. “Sure,” Myka said, “go ahead.”

Her easy acceptance gave Helena strength enough to turn to her fully. “Are you still…” Again, she had to swallow; her mouth was dry and her voice ready to break. “Is this… You said you were in this, but… are you still?” Things could change, between one video call and the next, between one visit and the next. 

Myka blinked for a moment, then rose from the couch and came over to stand in front of Helena. “Yes,” she said, and again she sounded sincere. “Yes, I am.”

Helena fought not to take a step back from the sudden closeness. “It’s just-” she began and then broke off again. 

“Oh, I know,” Myka said when she didn’t go on. “I get it. We both got bitten, remember? And you…” She shifted where she stood, easing back a little as if she was aware of the cause for Helena’s tension. “You’ve got Chris to think of too. I understand that. I mean even if all of this works out one hundred percent perfectly, it would still be a huge change in all our lives, right? And we’ve…” She smiled. “We’ve been with each other, as in, in each other’s actual physical presence, for maybe seventy-five hours so far. _Hours._ That’s not a lot.” 

Somehow her tone, her delivery, made Helena smile, helped her take this a little more lightly. “I have learned that you don’t snore,” she managed. 

Myka’s eyebrows rose. “One night is hardly enough of a sample size to say for sure,” she dead-panned. 

Helena’s smile steadied. “Good thing we have three more, then.”

“For science,” Myka nodded. 

“For science,” Helena agreed. And then she dropped the matter, and Myka didn’t press it either, but… three more nights, Helena told herself. They would find time to talk about this further, and maybe it was alright if it wasn’t resolved all in one go.

She could feel Myka’s eyes on her every now and then throughout the day. They ended up strolling through the Botanical Gardens together; Chris would never forgive either of them, Helena reasoned, if they went to the science museum without them. But a park full of flowers and plants? Her child wouldn’t worry too much about having missed out on that, Helena knew. It was a beautiful day – not too warm and not too cold, blue skies crisp overhead and flowers bright and colorful underneath. Unlike at Pride, though, Myka did not take her hand, did not link their arms together, and Helena found that she missed that with an acuteness that tore at her. They headed to a street fair for lunch, and while the food was amazing and the stalls almost as colorful and varied as the flowers in the Botanical Gardens had been, Helena asked to return home afterwards. 

They were barely inside the door when she turned around to Myka, and then stopped herself short. She wanted to hug her, but would it be welcome, after Myka had declined pretty much all contact all day? Her question was answered immediately; warm, steady arms wrapped around her in an instant, pulling her close. Myka’s sigh whispered through Helena’s hair and found the nape of her neck. 

“I’ve missed this,” Myka murmured, and Helena gave in and returned the embrace, molding herself to fit even more closely into Myka’s arms. 

They held on to each other for a long time before, with a deep breath, Helena began to detach herself. 

“I’m sorry,” Myka said. “It’s just…” Her arm flung out, indicating the door and Denver behind it. “This isn’t New York. God, I wish it was; I wanted nothing more than to hold your hand. I counted two dozen straight couples doing that in the Botanical Gardens alone, for Christ’s sakes!” She heaved a massive sigh, and when she kicked off her shoes, her motions were jerky with frustration. “It fucking sucks. I mean they say Denver is gay-friendly, but… oh, I don’t know. I didn’t see a single gay couple, did you?”

“Not overtly, no,” Helena agreed. So Myka had wanted to hold her hand, was as aggravated about not feeling able to as Helena was. That was good to know. 

“Oh, and one more thing?” Myka added, turning and straightening from putting away her shoes and brandishing a finger at Helena. “You are _not_ allowed to eat ice cream when I can’t kiss you. Sweet motherlovin’-” She broke off and caught Helena’s face in both hands, and then pressed a kiss to Helena’s lips that quickly turned hungry. 

Helena was still in her shoes, a pair of wedge sandals of modest height fit for walking places, and what with that and Myka being barefoot now, the angle of the kiss was deliciously new, as was the feeling of wrapping her arms around Myka’s neck. Kissing Myka was enchanting, as was the feeling of their bodies pressed together, moving together, touching from their shoulders all the way down to their shins. Something had been pent up all morning, and it wanted out, and for once, Helena did not feel like reining it back in. 

She curled her hands around the nape of Myka’s neck; it was warm and slightly damp with sweat from the day’s heat. She wanted to bury her fingers in Myka’s hair – there was nothing she’d ever wanted more – but they both had their hair up to allow some air to flow around their necks. They both knew how aggravating long dark hair could be on a hot day, and so Helena hesitated to pull out hair tie and bobby pins even though her fingers ached, itched, _yearned_ to rake through those tresses. And then Myka’s fingers found their way into her own hair’s confinement and _tugged,_ and Helena’s knees grew weak. She held on to Myka’s shoulders and moaned into their kiss, and felt Myka’s breath stream hot across her cheek in reply. And yet, a moment later Myka pulled away, catching her breath, catching Helena’s hands. 

“Are we going too fast?” she asked unsteadily. 

“No,” Helena said without any hesitation. “No.”

And then they were kissing again; Myka’s hands let go of Helena’s and found her waist instead, pulling her in with a sureness that set Helena aflame. She gave in to her earlier desire and freed Myka’s hair, reveling in the feeling of those luscious curls between her fingers. As she splayed her hands around Myka’s head, Myka responded by running her hands up Helena’s back and pulling them closer together, then lowering them again and grazing her fingers along the hem of Helena’s shirt, teasing skin-on-skin contact but never quite going there until Helena, entirely out of patience, caught them and pushed them underneath her shirt almost roughly.

Myka’s lips on hers faltered for a moment at the invitation, and again, she withdrew. “Helena-”

“Not too fast,” Helena interrupted in a throaty voice. 

“Yeah, okay,” Myka said and sounded just as husky – and Helena wondered if her voice had done the same to Myka as Myka’s voice was doing to her now – when she went on, “but, bedroom?”

The word was a bucket of ice water over Helena’s head. 

Myka noticed it too, a moment later. “Shit, I’m sorry. Too much?”

Helena stepped away and huffed in frustration. She ran a hand through her hair; it snagged and she angrily tugged out her hair tie. She barely resisted flinging it across the room; God, she was _angry._ Myka seemed to sense it too and quickly took a step back, and even though Helena knew it was to give her space, she resented the sudden distance between them. She turned on her heel and stalked towards the living room; two steps in she remembered that she was still wearing her sandals, so she stopped to pull them off. She would have loved nothing better than to throw these, too, but, as she had pointed out to her child countless times, that solved nothing and potentially damaged stuff that would cost money to replace, so she gritted her teeth, made her way back to the entryway, deposited the sandals on Myka’s shoe shelf, and straightened stiffly. As she did so, her gaze fell on Myka, and she deflated. 

Myka looked at the same time lost, guilty, and sympathetic. 

None of this was Myka’s fault. 

Helena brought both hands up to her hair, ran them through it, felt it settle down on her shoulders, tried to let it settle her anger, too. “I’m sorry,” she said; it came out terse and she scowled at herself. “I’m angry at myself,” she told Myka, “not at you. I’ll… Give me a moment, alright?”

Without a word, Myka nodded, then gestured towards the living room. Helena took it as an invitation to precede her and did so; they settled on the couch too far apart from each other with the entirely wrong kind of tension brimming between them.

“I was frustrated,” Helena said, in another attempt at explaining her reaction. _“Am_ frustrated. Not by you,” she added again, “but by my own reaction. Myka, I want this; I just-” She broke off, feeling helpless to her own emotions. 

“I know you do,” Myka nodded. “You said yesterday, and I mean… the way you kissed me…” a very brief, very trepidant smile flashed across her face. “And just like yesterday, I don’t feel led on,” she added quickly. “I don’t. I want you to know that, okay?”

Helena pressed her lips together. Myka’s words were intended to reassure her, but for some reason they didn’t. Frustration was still roaring through her veins, having fully replaced the earlier arousal. She gave Myka a nod to indicate she’d heard her, but couldn’t find any words to answer with. 

“Hey, listen,” Myka said. “Why don’t we stop thinking about it for a bit. Distract ourselves, watch some more Castle or something. Take the pressure off.”

Helena wanted to flare up at her – she wanted to solve this, not shelve it. There had to be a solution! And the longer they didn’t work on finding it, the longer this state of affairs would continue. But the small part of her mind that was still capable of thinking rationally instead of emotionally reminded her of all the times she’d told her child that frustrated anger was a poor basis for working out solutions. She snorted a soft laugh at herself – who would have thought that advice given to a pre-teen would work on a hormone-addled adult too?

“Alright,” she nodded. It still came out tersely again, and she resented herself for it, but Myka simply grabbed the remote control and didn’t further remark on it. 

Halfway through the episode, Helena found herself relaxing. When there was a lull in the action on-screen, she turned to Myka. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

Myka looked over at her, tilted her head, paused the episode. Nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“I detest this.”

Myka hummed. “I get it. I mean I wouldn’t go as far as ‘detest’, but yeah, it sucks. That it’s happening at all, I mean – this isn’t an accusation. Because this isn’t your fault.”

The simple statement bit into Helena’s eyes and made them fill. She looked aside at the odd frozen scene on the TV screen, trying to hide how Myka’s words affected her, but Myka put her hand on Helena’s thigh. 

“Hey. Helena. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Helena pressed out. “This is- Myka, this is important, and I’m making a mess of it! How can I expect you to-” She had to stop; her voice was giving out. 

Myka was leaning forward now, almost into her line of sight. Her eyebrows were creased; she looked… stern. “Stop that,” she said. “You are not,” she gave an incredulous laugh, “making a mess of this. So you’re scared – I’ve already told you: I’m scared too. So I get not wanting to mess things up, but seriously, you’re not. Not with… not with your nerves getting the better of you, or whatever you want to call it. Really, if anything, it’s… reassuring.”

Helena scowled. “How on Earth would that be reassuring?”

“Because it’s honest,” Myka said without an ounce of hesitation. “If I felt like you were putting up a front, like you were hiding how you feel, _that_ would mess with me. That would push me away. But not,” and now she took Helena’s hands in hers, so very sincerely, “not you being honest. Okay?”

“I- I want everything to be perfect,” Helena said tonelessly. 

“Why?!” Myka asked, sounding truly baffled. 

“Because why would you-” Again, Helena couldn’t bring the words out. She couldn’t voice this; surely saying it out loud would jinx everything, would ruin everything. She barely even dared to think the thought – why would Myka choose her? When Helena wasn’t able to stay in a sexy moment, when Helena came with baggage, when Helena came with a child who-

There was movement on her wrist and she looked down: Myka’s thumb was stroking across the spot where Helena’s hand met her arm, over and over again. And since Helena was looking that way now, she also saw that her own knuckles were white from clinging to Myka’s hands. She tried to loosen them, but somewhere between brain and forearm muscle the signal seemed to get lost; her hands did not budge, her fingers did not relax their hold. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Myka said.

Her words were quiet but they rang in the air, rang in Helena’s ears. 

“Is that it?” Myka asked after a moment. “Is that what you’re afraid of? Because, Helena, if it is-” She broke off, got off the couch and sank down in front of Helena, obviously having given up on making Helena look at her. “I am not going anywhere,” she repeated, clear and precise. “I don’t want to. I want to be right here, with you. I want to figure this out, with you. Because I really like you, and I really like Chris, and I’d really like to make this work, with you.”

Helena’s eyes had started brimming again two sentences in, and again she tried to hide, but now Myka was catching her face in both hands, was running her thumbs across Helena’s cheeks, wiping away the tears. 

“So that’s it, huh,” Myka said in infinitely gentle tones. “I’m afraid you’ll hurt me by deceiving me, like Sam did; you’re afraid I’ll hurt you by leaving you, like what’s-his-name did.” She detached one hand and ran it down Helena’s cheek, and that gesture was infinitely gentle too. “Not gonna happen, okay? Not now that we know.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” was all Helena could think of to say.

It made Myka smile. “See, that’s solid,” she said lightly. “I don’t wanna hurt you either. So we’ll just take it from there, okay?”

“But what if I do hurt you?”

Myka raised her eyebrows. “Would you lie to me on purpose? Not just fibs in order to surprise me,” she added with a small smile, and then grew serious again, “but actual, ill-intentioned lies?”

“No!” Helena said wildly. “I’d never…”

“Well, then.” Myka shrugged. “That’s what I need to know.” She smiled again, and now it was stronger. “And before you ask, no, that’s not _all_ I need to know to suddenly not be nervous anymore. But it helps.”

Her words reverberated in Helena – they made sense. Still. Still she couldn’t meet Myka’s eyes. “We don’t know each other all that well yet,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “Maybe as… as you get to know me,” or Chris, she didn’t add, “you’ll find something that’ll make you leave.”

“Look,” Myka said, “I can’t predict the future right down to a hundred percent, okay, I’ll acknowledge that. But I can extrapolate from what I do know by now, and with that in mind I can tell you pretty confidently that I highly doubt it. And I get that you’re protecting not just yourself but Chris too, but let me tell you, I adore your kid. I really do.”

“They might want to go on puberty blockers,” Helena blurted out. “They’re not sure yet who they are, but they’re sure they’re not a cis girl. The next years are going to be… a challenge, either way. And I can’t ask Chris to accept you into their life, into our lives, only for you to bail because they’re too much.” She winced – had that been too blunt?

“Helena, I know,” Myka said urgently. “Okay, I didn’t know about the blockers, but I mean, I am aware that those are a thing for trans kids, an option. Look, I-” She stopped, suddenly, and stood. Left the room, and came back a moment later, holding a book aloft. “I think you didn’t see this on my bedside table yesterday; this is my current bed-time reading.” She thrust the book at Helena. “I asked around; they say this is a good choice for parents of trans kids.”

“Why would you read that?” Helena asked; a suspicion was slowly constricting her airways but she didn’t dare believe it.

“Because it’s what I do,” Myka said. “I read up on things. I want to be prepared. I’ve also read up on how to date someone who has a kid, how to not be too much or too little. That’s what I do,” she repeated, sinking down in front of Helena again, “when I don’t want to mess something up.”

Helena stared at her, struck speechless, thoughts running wild. 

“I don’t want to mess this up,” Myka repeated. “I know it wouldn’t be fair for you and even less for Chris if I went into this unprepared and then bailed, like you said. I don’t want that to happen, I promise. You’re too important to me, both of you. So I’m reading this, and I’ve read four more books, and dozens of blog posts, so that I can tell you with as much confidence as I’m ever going to possess that I’m not going anywhere.” She looked at Helena, head tilted and brow creasing ever more deeply with concern. “Say something?”

Helena sucked in a shaky breath. Gave a shaky laugh. Ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Why does this make me think that you’re too perfect to be true?” She shook her head. “And why did I think that the very first day we met?”

“Oh, I can assure you I’m not,” Myka said dryly. “I promise we’re gonna have fights. I don’t know what about, yet, but I’m one hundred percent sure we will, all caveats about the vagaries of the future aside. But fights don’t have to end in people leaving _or,”_ she added, emphasizing the word, “in people hating each other’s guts and still staying together to keep up appearances.”

“How are you so sure?” 

“Pete,” Myka shrugged. “He’s a social worker, and he’ll tell it to anyone who wants to hear it that him re-training as that saved his marriage, precisely because he learned how to have a fight properly. Effectively. Solution-oriented.” She rolled her eyes, but a smile played around her lips as she did. “And the thing is, if Amanda is there when he says it, _she agrees.”_

“I see,” Helena said weakly. Could it be possible?

“Look, I know this is a leap of faith,” Myka said, and her thumb was back on Helena’s wrist now. “And I know that can’t be hurried. Just because I’ve jumped doesn’t mean you have to jump too.”

“You’ve jumped?”

Myka smiled a small, self-deprecating smile. “Oh, I’m flying,” she said simply. “It’s nice here, if you wanna join me.” Her fingers gave a quick squeeze around Helena’s hands. “But seriously, no hurry, no pushing. When, and _only_ when, you’re ready. I mean that, one hundred percent.”

Helena could only stare at her, at this vision of… perfection, no matter how much Myka claimed the opposite. She ran her tongue across her lips, swallowed to wet her dry throat. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. 

“That’s alright,” Myka said lightly. “We can simply start Castle up again. That guy will talk until the cows come home.”

And for some reason, that line broke something open in Helena. She laughed, and was surprised that she was laughing, and then she was surprised when laughter turned into sobs, and through it all, Myka was there, holding, teasing, laughing along, stroking her back, her cheek, her wrist. 

“It’s okay,” Myka whispered when Helena tried to give voice to her embarrassment. “One day I’ll have a meltdown and you’re gonna hold me. Fair’s fair.”

And Helena had to laugh again; it came out as a hiccup that made Myka giggle and press a kiss to her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I might write smut for this. It'll probably be its own work, not an additional chapter, and I already have Thoughts on it, but I'm currently not really in the headspace for smut, so have it as it is.


	4. Landing

“Myka!!” Chris called out, spotting her first. “How did it go?!” They jumped up from the bench that they and Helena had been waiting on and raced towards Myka, dancing excited circles around her when they arrived. 

“Chris-tacean!” Myka exclaimed equally excitedly, “I got the job!” And she joined the kid in dancing and squeeing. And then Chris hugged her – something rare enough to be notable. Chris wasn’t tactile with other people often, Myka had noticed that and Helena had confirmed it, but here they were, hanging off Myka’s neck. Myka felt a warmth rise within her that was only tangentially related to her new job.

The look on Helena’s face two days ago, when Myka had announced that she wasn’t only in New York for the birthdays of her two favorite people (one day apart; Chris on the twenty-first of February, Helena on the twenty-second) but for a job interview as well had been priceless. The look on her face now as she approached Myka and Chris who were still hopping with joy was a picture, and Myka reveled in it.

“You got the job?” Helena asked quietly, almost disbelievingly.

Myka wrapped her arms around her and squeezed. “I did! They asked when I could start, even, and wanted me ASAP, but when I said I wanted to bring my project to a good end and that would take until the end of March, they were okay with it.” The words came out in one fast spurt, tumbling over each other as they fell from Myka’s mouth. “So I’ll start on April fifth and, oh, they gave me this!” She fumbled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Said I could check it out as a place to live if I wanted, but also said not to worry if I didn’t. It’s one of their first projects, so I definitely want to go there if only to see it.” She felt bubbly with excitement, barely able to stand still – this was amazing. 

F, K and N Architects and Consulting was amazing. In the field of New York urban planning, they were an up-and-coming player, focusing not, or not just, on value development but rather on livability, equity and sustainability, with the message that those were values that would enrich communities just as much. Myka had sent in her resume on a whim and a hope; the company wasn’t actively advertising, but ‘up-and-coming’ implied growth – that was what Myka had banked on, and that was what had paid out.

Helena took the address from her and looked at it. “This isn’t far from here,” she said, pointing southeast. “A dozen blocks, maybe?”

“Can we go there now?” Chris asked, hanging on Helena’s arm to look at the piece of paper too. “Oh I know that place; Serdem lives there!” They turned to Myka. “One of the guys in my dance class.”

Myka bit back a smile; she’d heard of Serdem. Multiple times. In fact, when she’d first seen Serdem, on a stage at Pride, she’d thought that a certain someone might be having a crush on him. To see Chris act all nonchalant now was adorable. “Sure we can go, if you guys don’t mind? You already waited twenty minutes longer than planned.”

“Of course we don’t mind,” Helena said quickly, handing the address back to Myka and hooking their arms together. “And we would’ve waited all night long if necessary. Congratulations, darling; I know how much you wanted this.”

“I found an article on them,” Chris chimed in from Myka’s other side. “They sound really cool. But they looked a bit intimidating. The bosses, I mean. Like, I wouldn’t have wanted to have an interview with them. Were they all there? Frederic, uh…”

“Kosan, and Nielsen,” Myka provided. “Yes, indeed they were, and yeah, they’re a bit intimidating in real life too. But the place was…” She paused, trying to put into words how the office had seemed when she’d been given the tour. “A good mix of professional and relaxed. Trusting, maybe? Open-minded? I definitely saw a mini gay and ace flag on one desk, even though I don’t know whose desk it was.”

“Oh wow, that’s awesome,” Chris said with shining eyes. 

“Right? And they said the reason they’re offering a bit less than the entry level salaries at other companies in the field is because they want to be able to hire more people so nobody has to work sixty hour weeks. Nielsen flat-out said that he refuses to greenlight projects that seem understaffed or reliant on overtime, and then Kosan teased him saying that that must be why he’s going home at four on Fridays, to set a good example.”

Helena, whose eyebrows had risen at the mention of salaries, settled a little. “So do you think their offer is fair?” She turned them down a south-bound street. 

“Fair?” Myka laughed happily. “Heck yeah. Health insurance, ten vacation days to start with, unlimited sick days that don’t come out of your vacation days. Helena, that place is a dream! All I need now is a place to rent that’s within the budget we calculated yesterday and I…” her voice drained away as it finally hit her. She stopped, and Helena stopped along with her, and they turned to each other. Chris noticed, and stopped and turned as well, a quizzical look on their face. “I can move here,” Myka breathed. “It’s really happening. Like, if the place they told me about has an apartment that I can afford, I’d be just five subway stops away from you. How amazing is that?”

“Four, actually,” Helena said with a tense smile and a quaver in her voice. She bit her lip and looked aside. “But let’s… let’s not get ahead of ourselves?”

Her hesitation quenched Myka’s enthusiasm like a bucket of water – but Helena was right. This wasn’t cut and dry yet, and too much rode on it to celebrate just yet. “I know what you mean,” Myka said. “We’re not quite there yet. But I did sign the contract and they did too, so there’s that. One step closer. Maybe two – how far is it still?”

“Three more blocks down this street,” Helena told her, “and then one more block west.” She took a deep breath and squeezed Myka’s arm to her. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Sure,” Myka said with a smile, and nodded down the street. “Shall we?”

Helena returned the smile with interest, and off they were. 

“Hi,” the young black woman who’d opened the door said a few moments later. She took in Myka, Helena and Chris with a quick glance. “What can I do for you?”

“Myka Bering,” Myka said, smiling at her. “I just had an interview at F, K and N, and they suggested I come here?”

“Oh! Yes, hi, I’m Leena,” Leena said and opened the door wide. “They called ahead; you wanted to look at an apartment, right?”

“If that’s possible, yes,” Myka said. 

Leena nodded. “That’s one… well, drawback, in so many words, of living here. Every now and then you might get asked if they can show people around. You’re always free to say no, no questions asked, especially on short notice. Abigail isn’t here right now but she gave her okay before she left – but come in, come out of the cold. Let’s continue this inside.” She ushered them into a large, airy hallway which, despite the cool colors it’d been painted in, seemed almost warm compared to the cold outside. 

“Wow,” Chris said, craning their neck to look at the ceiling. “This is really cool.”

It was, Myka had to admit. From the outside, the building had looked like those stereotypical warehouses you saw everywhere in American cities; brick, turn-of-the-century, spanning half the block. Inside there were light colors, wide hallways, easily visible signs for the super’s office, the laundry room, and even a sign for ‘Endless Wonder Café’. Myka could see Braille, ramps, guard rails, an elevator with spacious doors. Chris was right, the place _was_ cool.

“Abigail’s apartment is on the second floor,” Leena said, leading them towards the stairs. “Elevator or stairs?”

“Stairs,” Helena and Myka said; Chris simply groaned. 

Helena nudged them with her elbow. “Behave, youngling,” she said quietly. 

Chris grumbled. “You said you weren’t gonna call me that anymore. I’m thirteen!”

“I said,” Helena gave back diffidently, “that I would consider it. But when you’re moaning like a child, you get called a child. One flight of stairs isn’t that big of a deal, is it?”

Leena chuckled as she led them up the stairs. “It could definitely be worse,” she said across her shoulder. “We have six floors in total, and some of our top-floor residents do take the stairs, if only as a workout.” Arriving on the landing, she pointed down the corridor. “Second door on the left. It’s a single-occupancy; not sure if that’s what you’re looking for?”

“Oh!” Myka said immediately. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Sorry,” Leena answered just as quickly, “I didn’t want to assume. I thought you guys look a little bit like a family.”

“We…” Helena began, bit her lip, forged on. “We are. Sort of. Long distance relationship, hopefully not much longer?”

Myka goggled – that was a bit more forthrightness than she’d expected, no matter that Helena had said she didn’t want to hide them. Then she smiled, first at Helena, then at Leena. “Yeah, that’s why I applied at F, K and N. So that I could move to New York. And because it’s an impressive company,” she added quickly – not that Leena got the wrong impression and that somehow got back to the owners. 

“Don’t worry, I understand,” Leena smiled. “Well, here we are.” She unlocked the apartment door and motioned them in ahead of her. “Like I said, this is a single – the others singles are comparable, if not completely the same. When would you be looking to move in?”

“Beginning of April?” 

Leena nodded. “I think we might have one free by then, but I’ll check to make sure. You can have a three month, six month or full year lease, depending on what fits you best; the apartments come furnished but if you want to bring your own stuff, we can put things in storage.” She turned and spread her arms. “This is the living room; bedroom and bathroom are through there, kitchen is over here.”

Myka was astonished at how spacious the apartment was – smaller than her Denver one, yes, but still nowhere near as claustrophobic as she’d expected, this being New York. “This is nice,” she said.

Leena smiled. “Thanks. Now when it comes to rent, our model here is that it’s tied to your income or financial situation, as a fairer pricing model than just charging as much as the market will allow. Which means that some people will pay less for the same apartment than others. Is that okay for you?”

Myka blinked. “The principle, yes, absolutely,” she said, “but I’d still have to see how much my rent would come to in order to say if I can afford it. But it wouldn’t bother me that someone who earns less pays less, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good,” Leena said emphatically. “Because believe it or not, that’s one of the major issues some people have with this place.”

Helena gave a delicate snort. “I believe it.” 

“Does this place have trash chutes?” Chris asked, looking around curiously. “I always wanted to live somewhere that has trash chutes.”

Leena chuckled again; Helena sighed. “We’re not moving in here, darling; Myka is.”

“Yeah, but we’d be visiting her, right? And who knows, we might, one day.” 

“One step at a time, Chris-tacean,” Myka told them. “One step at a time.” 

Chris only huffed in reply, but the gesture, as well as their words, made a rush of warmth run through Myka. She exchanged a quick glance with Helena, who looked similarly affected. Not only was Chris not put off by the idea of their mother entering a relationship with Myka, they were (by self-proclamation) their ‘greatest shipper’. When the three of them had spoken about the possibility of Myka moving to New York – on a video call over Christmas, because while Christmas _in_ New York sounded romantic as all get out, there was no way in which Myka could afford the air fare – Chris had squealed, out loud, hugged their mom, and overturned the laptop in their attempt to hug it too. 

Myka knew it wouldn’t always be like this. She knew rough moments would come, and they’d have to find a way to tackle them. But she wanted to; wanted to discover the challenges of creating a patchwork family, wanted to figure out how she and Chris would relate to each other, wanted to-

Helena was smiling at her. And God, Myka wanted to have that smile in her life for the rest of forever. Even though right now, that smile said ‘you missed a question because you were lost in your thoughts, and I could watch you get lost in your thoughts for hours on end, and don’t worry, the question wasn’t urgent.’ 

She blushed. “Um, sorry, what was that?”

Leena grinned. “I wanted to know if you wanted to see the other rooms as well.”

“Oh! Um, yes. Please. Sorry.”

A spark of mischievousness appeared in Leena’s smile; Myka liked her. “Sure. No problem. It’s a heady time, isn’t it?”

Myka looked at Helena, at the smile on Helena’s face that hadn’t disappeared yet, at Chris who was inspecting the titles of the books on this Abigail’s shelves, and nodded. “Yeah.” She took a deep, happy breath. “Yeah, it really is.”


End file.
